you chalk
a line around
where the body lies.
you lift the prints
on knobs
and glasses.
a gun, still warm
next to a slice
of pie.
there is eggnog
spilled
on the victim's
chest. it smells
like rum.
there is a scrabble
board nearly done
on the coffee
table.
with an open
dictionary nearby,
there is a q
in the dead
man's hand
but he has no u
to finish.
and the guilty one
is led out
muttering,
qa is not a word.
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