Mystery at Baddesley Clinton by Eira Needham

Nicholas returns early, gasps; 

the priest is stroking 

his wife’s chin - or perhaps 

he is about to choke her. 

Horror fuels rage, sword 

flashes in candle light.

Step over him now, buried in upright 

stance beneath St. Michael’s entrance.

As penance, he built the church steeple.

The library floor remains ensanguine

by the stone arched fireside, but

whose blood was daubed on the boards? 

Now, footsteps echo along 

panelled corridors that lead 

to the reading room.

Voices argue, startle; a priest 

takes mass in the shadows.

A woman in black drifts 

through walls. Ornaments change

places, door knobs turn  

- hands unseen.

Eira Needham is a retired teacher, living in Birmingham UK. Her poetry is eclectic and has been published in print and online. Some of her publications are in The Linnet’s Wings, Voices from the Web 2016 and Poetry Pacific. She has also been Featured Writer in WestWard Quarterly.