Capiche

Naked light
bulbs would
swing from
cracking plaster
ceilings. They’d
nab them
and
shove them
into your face
like
this.
They’d glare
at you
with exaggerated
menace
arms
in stiff akimbo.
You were always
in
profile.
They’d be pensive
and pace
and prod
and drink black
coffee and it
was idiotic
to be charming
you were just
tightlipped
and loyal. You
didn’t rat
or squeak
or take a man
down with you.
They said
where were you
on the night
of
and
it isn’t over yet
not by a long
shot and I’m
asking you
a question.
I’m asking
you a question.

______________________________________

Gregg Murray is an assistant professor of English at Georgia Perimeter College. He has very recent work in Horse Less Review, Spittoon, decomP magazinE and LEVELER, and poems forthcoming soon in [PANK] and Ayris. Please visit his website for more information, including links to published poems and essays (gregorykirkmurray.com).