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Exit 8, Veronica Booth

a poem inspired by the Bridgewater Triangle in Massachusetts

I thought I saw a

body in her arms

possibly limp,

possibly living.

She stalked into the

woods, cryptic

in feeling,

cold in the air.

A mother

in mourning,

or murder in Mass

cannot be told from the street.

Steps furthering her

as the dark encloses her body

and her patient,

or her prey.

Staring for the flick of a foot,

the fidgeting of a body,

but nothing moves,

nothing moans.

I thought I saw a boy,

small and sinless,

as I turned

and took the exit.


Veronica Booth is a writer from Boston, Massachusetts with a degree in English literature from Boston University. She frequently writes for non-profits such as The Borgen Project but is most passionate about gothic and crime writing that focuses on questioning self-identity.

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