Early in debate, two sharp points were made.
Succinct as a dagger’s thrust; both cut deep.
To be driven home, each decisive blade
was further twisted; blood and guts did seep.
The angles of intrusion were acute;
on passage, both knives parted flesh from bone,
lanced the stomach, and punctured lungs on route.
They came to rest, rigid as steel in stone.
As life bled from the wounds (of both soon dead)
those in witness stopped in forensic pause;
thought upon the motive and so agreed:
“Death came to pass upon a common cause.”
. For those who debate, agreement is death;
. a sign of weakness … such a waste of breath.
© Tim Grace, 14 October 2012
To the reader: I worked in an office where heated debate would often culminate in furious agreement. Two staff-members with fiery temperaments would constantly joust and parry over common ground. For all in witness, it would have been far better these two pedants had opposing views of worthy substance. Alas, and instead, the two argued over detail and finally arrived at a consensus; long-since agreed by all else half-concerned by the menial matter.
To the poet: “What of two minds that claim a single thought?” The two subjects of this poem are in dispute; literally. Are they the two sharp points, are they the two daggers; then again, are they the two adversaries? That subjective confusion is deliberate in construing an investigative pastiche; a crime scene of sorts. As required of this genre, a confused subject needs a vague objective; and so the plot thickens. What’s the remedy? A strong couplet that solves the riddle.