Murder, She Wrote
A green glass bottle
sprawls on its belly,
tipsy tip down
the worn side table.
The flickering faded lamp
flashes
a dancing creature of light.
A pool of liquor
coats the limp body
of a cigarette,
broken
down the middle.
Wafts and reeks –
pungent smoke cloud.
Fever pitch
by the wooden bat.
Beat once,
Twice.
Dawn breaks -
light floods the room.
