I woke, the motive for murder clear, dawn already
pointing her rosy fingers, birds falling for her promises,
though still airborne. The mystery was French, les flics
tumbling in bed just red herrings, cadavers in a coal mine
not much of a warning, the murderous protagonist crying
after pulling the plug on his dad. But once truly awake,
I forgot that motive, there being other pressing plots:
the need to make coffee and to feed the dog. And I
guess I just don’t get what murder could solve,
the death of one person or a lot of them, like war.
Diane K. Martin lives in western Sonoma County, California. Her work has appeared in Tinderbox, American Poetry Review, diode, Field, Harvard Review, Narrative, Plume, and many other journals and anthologies. A poem was awarded second place in the Nimrod/Hardman Pablo Neruda Prize, judged by B.H. Fairchild. Another poem received a Pushcart Special Mention, and yet another won first prize from the journal Smartish Pace. Her first book, Conjugated Visits, a National Poetry Series finalist, was published by Dream Horse Press. Her second collection, Hue & Cry, was published by MadHat Press. Photo credit: John F. Martin