suspect

half a cake
is gone. you go around
the room
to question
the suspects.
but it's only you.
you go to the mirror.
there are smears of icing
on your chin.
the belly
protrudes from
the layers of shirts
and sweaters.
there is a trail
of crumbs
from the kitchen
to the couch.
a fork, a spoon,
dishes, all with the hard
remains
of what was done.
empty glasses of milk
with your prints upon them.
you've narrowed it
down to one.