Resident poet Nigel Parkin digs into the mind of the deranged Dean in 1982’s PIECES for this SHOCKing series of sonnets!
Summer of 42
I knew perfect women come in pieces
Even as a boy. My jigsaw showed me
This girl was a miraculous puzzle
From a future time, a scattered promise
Of glossy hair and model breasts, guiding
My eager hands as I assembled her,
Revealing, stroking, loving, needing her.
And when mother discovered us, my rage
Was greater than hers; she called me dirty,
Threatened to kill me, but I took an axe
To her dull brain! Silenced, separated,
She was now the mother I needed, her
Limbs a new toy, her blood enhancing the
Beauty of my jigsaw girl my true joy!
Forty Years Later The First Victim
Shall I compare thee to a summers day?
Ha! You are a vision from a sonnet!
Im almost sorry to disturb your peace
But all things must be broken. This scene of
Sunlight and flowers would look better in
Pieces, with great livid splashes of blood!
Somewhere Im sure I can hear shattering
Of glass, sharp shards of memory slicing
My mind my mothers bitter, hateful cries.
I start up the saw, step into the sun.
With an easy sweep I take what I need.
The spring that erupts from your neck, mocking
Life, is a wonderful, rapturous sight!
Im in ecstasy. My work has begun.
The tennis player was a dream to watch.
She played the game in her own special way
But really it wasnt her skill that held
My gaze it was her legs! I needed them!
She came close, in effect, to my jigsaw
Girl I could have stared at her for ever.
Cowering in the cubicle, screaming
As my saw carved a piece out of the door,
Framing her, a picture of fear, panic
Staining her thighs, she was my masterpiece.
Oh, she was so well received! Marys cries
Of shock and rage recalled my mother, years
Before. The name Id heard my father called
Now honoured me! Bastard! Baastaard! Bastaaaard!