The Case of the Apple Pie
There’s been a string of
in the neighborhood.
In a single month, Pastrami Sandwich, Pot Roast
macabre traces remain
foul play certain
now Apple Pie’s gone missing
little crust flakes and splattered filling gobs on the morning floor.
There’s a killer in the kitchen.
Authorities baffled, residents hysterical
telling tales of “clickety-clacks” approaching in the night
each time to take yet another victim
At breakfast, I try to crack the case
dog comes over to say good morning
cheerful tail thwacking
eyeing my breakfast, licking his lips
with breath smelling odd
good, even, like
cinnamon, or like