He was alone and lonely.
Sadness swept his eyes
before he jabbed at me
with his cynical sarcasm.
He slowly lit his Camel.
It was a simple act of murder
and he was a scholar of sorts –
a player of chess, a fan of poetry.
I knew I was under his scrutiny.
I agree it looked rather suspicious.
After all, the body was there
and I was found holding the knife.
I squirmed under his hard eye
but leaned back into the chair
in front of his desk knowing
he had a soft spot for women.
A hard drinker, he took a bottle
from his cabinet and offered
a glass to me. I didn’t accept
as I knew I should stay alert.
“It was a man, a squabby man,
with a glimmer of glee in his eye,”
I said. “He looked at me, then
threw down the knife and ran.”
Marlowe said, “I don’t think you did it.
There was no blood on your clothes.
Your shoes would have soaked
in the blood and crusted.”
I relaxed a little and offered a smile.
I knew I was home free.
I was glad I had changed my shoes.
“I’ll take that drink now.”
She took the bait…
Inspired by but not entered in Natasha L Scragg’s Start Sleuthing Poetry Contest
Categories:
philip marlowe, confidence, death, murder, mystery,
Form: Free verse
I caught you creeping around
with your spying eyes
Quick, furtive glances
betray your silent, stealthy movements
Human satellite camouflaging black cloud,
always in passing tear bursts,
secretly scans through a purse in my closet
Your dubious, devious actions
speak loud
Such churning, internal accusations
would make any insecure man proud
Furthermore, you compounded your fidelity lies,
when you installed web cam spying eyes
Privacy invasion of the worst kind —
But, I caught you though,
looking through my bedroom window
with a telescope
I had a Philip Marlowe
reconnaissance pro trailing you ...
sweet turn of the table
Let my diamond stylus disgust skip to the end,
this relationship is over ...
It’s time for me to unfriend
Here is some advice I guilt-freely give you:
Your spying eyes
will never truly let you see inside
the heart of another person
Unconditional trust
is the only way to ever off-site remotely know
what lay beneath the quilted hidden covers
of someone else’s soul
Categories:
philip marlowe, allusion, betrayal, slam, trust,
Form: Free verse