Salad Night

For We Write Poems’ Prompt #95, which encouraged us to write about something in the natural world from a not-so-common point of view.

Salad Night

I’ve murdered the cook
in this mansion mystery —

Look, my hands are slick
like a surgeon’s when he searches

for this or that organ,
I’ve even got the knife and heart

to prove it.  It’s bigger
and rounder than most

and has gone quite still,
except for its tendency

to stain the kitchen tiles
and cutting board a ghastly

red (would a killer use
such a word, ghastly?)

To remove and conceal
all evidence I’ve chopped

the fist-sized thing up
into bits with the poor guy’s

own meat cutter and
put it into the mix

as tasty, chewy beet.

14 Comments on “Salad Night”

  1. Irene says:

    This is like a murder mystery trip, indeed.

  2. Rinkly Rimes says:

    This must be written from experience! I wonder if anyone has ever made an admission of guilt in a blog!

  3. Murderer of beets!! I think they’d use the word ghastly, (an educated murderer would any way!) Fun one. 🙂

  4. vivinfrance says:

    I like ithe poem very much, but I like not the mess preparing beets makes in the kitchen – I’m with you there.

  5. wayne says:

    indeed a real nice trip….thanks for sharing

  6. Ruth says:

    I love this poem, even though it’s a bit gory sounding. Doesn’t put me off beets, though… 😀

  7. Nicole says:

    Well, now I’ve got more competition in the dark and ghastly department. I love the gory details and how you lead us to the surprise ending.


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