I also think I was possessed of Poe when I penned my poem I later related to the Ripper…

…the ending certainly sounds a bit like Drowned Lover.

After seeing Wagner’s film, From The Dead of Night which I had not seen before writing this poem, it maybe possible one of the Ripper victims is speaking through me, just as Roberts channeled Seth and McClain channeled souls.

Thieves in the Night

Thieves in the night

Eyes darting left and right,

Lurking in the dark,

waiting for the broad.

His cold, rough hand

smothering her screams,

wet with sweat,

He took what he demanded.

She gathered her clothes

Her naked body bruised and battered

Stumbling to the street

She yelled, Police!

Help me she cried

To a passerby,

I’ve been raped.

They just gaped.

She stopped a policeman

Help me she pleaded

I’ve been raped

Station’s that way, he greeted.

He continued his beat,

In the midnight heat,

But I’ve been raped

She repeated.

She ran to the station

Walked to the desk

In panic and desperation

Gave the officer her summation.

I’m sorry he said

There is nothing we can do

There were no eyewitnesses

Oh no! she cried

Out of the station she fled

To her home

And to her bed

The next morning she was dead.

Kay Frances Gibbs 

April 1996.