The Letter That Changed Everything
You knock on Thrombey’s door securely
face first – was this the wound a wall formed? Again,
you are your own juncture
pushed up against the littlest door, the paper roll is punctured
She has two pianos – a concert grand for herself and a smaller one for guests. He stops in his tracks and turns toward you, a dark look on his face. “The truth is, I think she would rather have me dead.”
Unfurl the latent spectator. Ladily,
to untie, a fixture. The gentlemanly
rash in latter notation, the stain. As
compartmentalized wholly accounted for
where servants flee to tread.
The next morning you’re up early thinking:Maladaption
“This is John McGee, Harlowe Thrombey’s lawyer. Have you heard the news?”
“Mr. Harlowe Thrombey… if anything happened to you, catch me in black, if you saw the cloak, clock, murdered! He was poisoned last night. He was ending in sight.”
“She must have sharp eyes,” you say.
“You may know her,” McGee says. “Jenny Mudge is her name.”
You thank McGee for calling and hang up. Shocked, you stroke.
On the other hand, perhaps you should inspect the scene of the crime.
Causal/ usual sower, or rather unusual for her to be dressed in bacon.
Swaddling the ramparts you
Staggering up Mt. Washington you
Staying the reigns of the cherry tree, this time you are
about ready to leave. (Book – heft.
Having counted the notches, you cite three witnesses.
- a finger in one’s ear
- a finger in one’s earhole
- one’s tree knot or notch
This will have to be about seasonal changes and having evaluated the regression into lightless seasons, the body lies in wait, lipid. A long, oily strain trails behind the mouth of your perceived. This is a strain to both – apart upon the straights, evidence-upon-ravenous – the bearing ice breaking straight -
“My uncle and I often fought,” he says angrily, “Just a moment,” Robert says, “He was very weak; he could hardly talk,” Robert replies, “You liar!” Jane shouts, “Actually,” Chartwell says,
“Everybody stay where you are!”
That usual is to be weakened stolen and the less trepid seeing nocturnal.
The Distant Flicker
Smiling with satisfaction, the Inspector points to the door. “So you see, my friend, it’s just a matter of (bringing the inspected in).” At last you have noticed my fauna. “More importantly, I have a vine (I would like you to climb),” pulling back the curtain.
As reckoning metallic he is lasting smooth.
With his wrist angling in rhythmic.
To test that you are tightening in accordance with tides, your fingernail moons grow dim.
Limp flesh elastic gestural stripruns over you in quickened rates
and getting her confession
With a slight
you have teeth this size
and shape, you have
teeth ready for
bouquets of buried
you have a bite for
your tender bite to
a li- li-
with rounded beak
All the dinner guests agreed that:
the table has come apart at last – the leaves, the cloths,
Indeed, Insist (a mystery) will be published in its entirety by Ugly Duckling Presse later this spring. Please see uglyducklingpresse.org for more info/ordering.
Bethany Wright is a poet/performance artist/MFA candidate.