Nebraska Noir, 1973

An earlier version of this poem appeared in Quarry #4 1974.

While fishing in Harry Strunk Lake,
Dean McQuiety reeled in a foot
and then an arm with hand attached.
The detective said and I quote,
Murder is no mystery only the motive.
The stores in McCook have sold out of handguns,
and after church there is talk.
Packed away in someone’s freezer
are the heads of that missing couple.
The devil loves a good mystery.
He is sitting up all night in Culbertson,
behind a hundred bolted doors,
and at a truckstop outside Kearney
he is waiting for the next bus,
inhaling cigarettes like rations of air.