The Mystery of Mortuary Mews

Woman jailed for using six-year-old girl to burgle

The Independent, 24 January 2012

The tidal Thames breathed a bitter mist

hiding all but the gas-light glow of mock

Victorian street lamps along Mortuary Mews

that January watch.  

A disassembled scream oozed through the fog;

denied by sealed sash-box windows, fended

off by Chubb-locked doors, its prying fingers,

ice-cold to the touch,

left breathy prints on glass and lightly gouged

the windowsills of every floor, and was gone.

No one saw these signs nor read their gravely

coded message till

the night outside began to throb with a blue

light the curtains let right in, and being

wary, occupants edged back curtains, the bleak

street scene to reveal.

Now TV and radio sets were muted, CD

players put on hold, and from every slit

of light at every darkened Georgian sash

prying eyes gawped.

Even then the icy scratches went

unnoticed, only to baffle the residents when

Inspector Carter pointed out the way

the very glass had warped.

(c) 2012 Slush Poet