Four in a row on the left -
Doors open -
No-one -
No guards, no coppers -
No-one.
I walk down the corridor -
Looking left, then right -
Left, then right -
Left then right -
Until I come -
Come to the last two cells -
And I look to the left -
No-one -
And I look to the right -
And -
And there he is -
The Yorkshire Ripper -
The Yorkshire Ripper asleep on the bed in the cell -
His back to the door, curved -
Curved in a blue sweater, grey trousers -
Alone -
No-one inside the cell -
No-one outside -
And I stare at the back of the Yorkshire Ripper -
The back of the Yorkshire Ripper moving up and down, in and out, ever so slightly -
Ever so slightly under that blue sweater -
And then I hear footsteps -
Footsteps on the black polished floor -
And I turn -
Turn and there they are -
Alderman and Murphy, John Murphy -
A shotgun each -
A small woman between them -
A small woman with black hair.
And the three of them -
Alderman, Murphy and the woman, they stare -
Stare until Murphy says: ‘What you doing here, Pete?’
‘After your hundred quid, are you?’ snorts Alderman.
I say: ‘There was no-one on. There should have been someone.’
Murphy: ‘They’re short. We just went to get Mrs Wilhams here.’
But Mrs Williams here -
Mrs Williams isn’t looking at me -
She’s looking past me into the cell -
And I turn back -
Turn back to look into the cell -
And there he is -
Upright on the edge of the bed in the cell -
The Yorkshire Ripper, upright.
And she goes past me -
Past me and into the cell -
And she says: ‘Have you had anything to eat?’
And Alderman shouts after her: ‘Oi, we’re not bloody inhuman you know?’
And she’s holding his hand, asking him about his clothes -
And I’m walking backwards away from them -
Walking backwards away from them, when he says -
The Yorkshire Ripper says: ‘It’s me.’
And she says: ‘Is it Peter? Is it really?’
And he nods and she lets go of his hand.
She turns back to Alderman and Murphy and me, standing in the corridor with the guns, and she says -
The wife of the Yorkshire Ripper says: ‘My priority is to let my parents know. Not on the telephone, face to face.’
Alderman: ‘I wouldn’t advise you to do that.’
‘Why?’
Alderman: ‘The press will get you.’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’
Alderman: ‘We’ve had a press conference. They’re all waiting outside.’
And I’m saying -
Saying for her: ‘What? You’ve done what?’
Looking at Murphy, turning, walking -
I’m walking away -
Walking away, then running -
Up the stairs -
Running.
to intensify the anguish for the tears they first wept knotted in a cluster and like a visor made for them in crystal filled all the hollow part around their eyes o lord break off these hard veils and give relief from the pain that swells my heart and rains down blows upon my flesh where then new tears freeze again his body in the world above for whenever a soul betrays the way he did a demon takes possession of his body controlling its maneuvers from then on for all the years it has to live and e who am dead must lead thee through this hell these scenes of blood and wounds for memory and vocabulary are not enough to comprehend the pain the bodies ripped from chin to arse between their legs their guts spilled out with the heart and other vital parts the dirty sacks from inside hear another with her throat slit her nose cut off as far as where the eyebrows start she steps out from the group and opens her throat which runs red from all sides of her wound and says bring back to those on earth this message of the things you have seen take back this from those who stained your world with blood your world now containing approximately five pounds in cash all this and heaven too missing a lorry driver called peter who drives a cab with a name beginning with the letter C on the side he lives in bradford in a big grey house elevated above the street behind wrought iron gates with steps leading up to the front door number six in its street peter committed crimes before and is connected to the containerbase at stourton he will kill for the last time in leeds on Wednesday the tenth of december nineteen eighty the thirteenth and last transmission one final picture from the atrocity exhibition from the shadows of the sun out of the arc of the searchlight laureen bell in headingley leeds eating kentucky fried chicken e saw her and followed her and e took hammer from my pocket and e hit her and then e dragged her to some waste land and she was moving about and e pulled most of her clothes off and e had the screwdriver with the yellow handle and e stabbed her in the lungs her eyes still open she seemed to be looking at me with an accusing stare which shook me up a bit so e stabbed her in the eye the taste of the chicken in my mouth the taste of salt everything salt in my mouth clueless e scream the weather is letting me down again for e am not ripper e am the streetcleaner locked in the red room poor old oldman looking for the wrong man noble but
