It’s a cold, damp, windy day
this overcast pre-May.

The neighbor sits around the fire pit,
a bloody butcher knife off his lap does slip.

He rises and starts to dig
in the pit with a shovel.
What he’s doing is a puzzle.

He digs — making a deep hole and high mound.
Over the next few days,
we’ll have to watch if his wife Sharon

is seen or makes a sound.
And we’ll watch if back in the pit suddenly
goes the mound.