Dead To Rights

A seasoned cat burglar 
climbs through 
the kitchen window;
his eyes scanning 
left, right, front, and back...
"Good, no one's home,"
or so he fought.
He tiptoes through the house,
going from room to room,
rummaging through drawers 
and stuffing knick knacks 
into an open backpack 
he's wearing 
in front.
Before long, he sees a shadow 
appear on the wall;
someone's behind him. 
As soon as he turns his head
for a look see...
"POW!"...knocked out, cold.
He came to...
a hulking blurry figure 
standing over him.... 

"You came to the wrong house, and the cops are on their way!,"
the homeowner shouted.



Date written: 06/13/2021
Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace