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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 12, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 12, 2016



She would walk
until she grew tied.
She became tired
because she walked.

She liked the walk:
it took her under trees,
by trees, through
the wood of trees.

A worn path. Worn
by constant walkers
from the asylum to
the seashore. A choice

between going back
to the asylum or drown.
Some chose the latter.
Lilium liked to walk to

the seashore, stood
looking at the waves,
and gulls then walked
back to the asylum.

Some preferred to drown.
That tall thin woman
drowned, the one who
muttered and muttered

about Jesus coming.
Her body was washed
ashore some days later
down the coast further.

Free at last. Some said.
The fat nurse said good
riddance. Said it. Lilium
said nothing. The fat nurse

walked the wooded walk
beside her. Talked of trees
and birds and birdsong.
Lilium would say nothing.

She preferred to think.
Her muddled thinking.
Thoughts tumbling over
and over. There was a thin

nurse. Lilium remembered
her well. Thin lipped, body
and arms. She too walked
along the quiet wooded walk.

Lilium had walked beside her.
Walked behind her. Slammed
with force a thick tree branch
against the nurse's thin skinned

head. The thin nurse was at
rest and free. She was dead.

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