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About This Poem
THE PERFECT MURDER
In his private parlor the king of Moab rests,
Having just retired from his more spacious quarters,
Where King Eglon had received the Israelite guests,
Bearing tribute, not a gift, but by the king’s orders.
Israel’s cries to God, about their being bereft,
Brought about the sending of a rescuer from the Lord.
Ehud, a man ambidexterous and lethal with his left,
Wore on his right thigh a cubit-length sword.
Ehud is sent by God to ease Israel’s suffering,
And is quickly added with those bearing the treasure.
He conceals his double-edged sword with a covering
And, pretending to have an errand, asks the King’s pleasure.
Eglon, a king who rules with an iron rod,
Believes Ehud’s pretense of a secret task--
A special message he says is from God—
And sees Ehud in his parlor as he asks.
Eglon the king rises from his lounging,
As Ehud announces what his visit is about.
With sword in hand, Ehud is suddenly bounding
And stabbing the king until his entrails fall out.
Ehud dashes out on the porch, locking doors in back.
He dashes by idols and monuments of stone and iron,
And flees toward Mount Ephraim, following the track,
Where timely he lifts and blows the trumpet of Zion.
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