the crime scene was taped
and tagged - with chalk dust
stuttering the story of the room,
in wandering lines and other
shapes with curve.
still life was poised in the edge
of waiting chisels; in the murmurs
of stone faced masons of truth -
who chipped away until a shape
emerged ...
the victim ... laying beside
a spent, discarded, shell-casing -
wrapped in plastic care -
with fingerprints pointing in
ardent accusation.
men of firm resolve recoiled:
what horror! -
she'd "peaked" and called a halt
with him all still unsettled,
with his pistol there still primed!
he'd shot her an "I'm not finished yet" glance -
but she'd just smiled,
rolled over and
drifted away;
she was done ...
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