A CLUEDO (HAVEN’T GOT)
deduced it in no
time
saw it clearly it was
either Plum that went
shapeshifter
eliding, gliding
between
the kitchen (pots
still greasy)
and the games room
turning up at the table
through
the fourth wall
or could be
Mustard, that die-
hard Imperialist with the
old Western front Vickers
water
-cooled machine gun
defending the pantry against
whatever
latest horde of savages
took out Ms Scarlett and
Ms White
ebony and ivory in
their delightful negligees
wandering aimless into
his line of sight
in persuance of
their tryst
or Green could have done it
C of E but some old Catholicism
at root there
adding a twist of hemlock
to that holy wine
(cardinal
not working out, we’ll
smoke that
one out
bring in another)
or someone in the garage
with rolls royce style
handy wrench
call murder murder
a spade a spade
a wrench a bloody brain-
fragment spattered wrench
and me
with my candle card yet again
with
such bad eyesight
cannot make out a thing
poems 2 die for 