Rape In A Cemetery
What a day to be going to the cemetery, thought pretty Marie Bogle, as the windshield wipers moved slowly back and forth. It was a bleak day. A gray sheet obscured the sky. Rain drizzled. She could have waited until a better day, but she wanted to have pictures of John Blackthorne’s grave site to show her students on Monday. That was when she was going to introduce them to the poetry of that obscure, eighteenth century American poet. She felt her introduction would be more interesting...