will she let this one live
ghostly bones lie in wait in the swamp of New Orleans
the plantation home understands their keening and wailing
who else hears? is there anyone left to mourn for them?
the wind rustles the cattails, mosquitos are rallying
murder city, some call this place; especially the sign readers
occasionally visitors will pay the price by being inquisitive
some leave; others are condemned to stay with the others
the house gloats at the demonic powers of her land
girl in white sits in the reeds, watching the visitors
making decisions as to whether she will release them or not
she was the first victim of the killer who lived here in 1903
today’s visitor has lovely blonde hair, she always was jealous of this.
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