Mid-Summary Murders

 

No need for sleuths

When the brown people die.

No maverick detective required

To ponder the  motive,

As he looks over the rubble,

With eagle eye ,and later argues

With his boss,(crusty but benign),

 To be given another 24 hours

To follow his hunch , crack the case,

And identify the perpetrator.

 No. That won’t be necessary.

Besides, on these roads,

His vintage car wouldn’t last an hour.

Nor will a visitation be requested

From forensic saints,

Perfumed with methylated ethics,

Who’d prod bone apart from mush

Of flesh, separate adult  from child,

Test those ragamuffin robes

For traces of pollen from rare

Wildflowers. No. Without swab or microscope,

It’s obvious-the victims were at home,

When the drone-strike came.

So no. No painstaking investigation

Needed in this place, so far away,

After  all ,proper murder is a  local puzzle,

To be solved by fictional police,

So our minds may be put at rest..

 

But who dunnit?

Was it Professor Plum in the library?

Was it the vicar in the attic?

Was it the Butler in the greenhouse?

No. It was Obama

In the Whitehouse.