No one’s seen
her car around–
just oil spots left
on hard-baked ground.

Three steps up
to no screen door,
red clay tracked
on vinyl floor.

No curtains hang
at any window.
Burnt beans left
from last night’s dinner.

Noisy fan
with rusty blades.
Hounds are panting
in the shade.

Unwatched TV
volume thunders–
baby cries
and neighbors wonder.

They all said
it couldn’t last,
and when they heard
a shotgun blast–

were not surprised
to find that he
would leave her dead
and take her keys.