Regular Poem: Femme Fatale BTS

She walked into my office a few minutes past closing
and a few hours past my being sober.
Even through the whiskey, I could see
she was all sharp angles and soft skin;
there was a secret on her red lips that was
different from the secrets in her red head.

“I don’t usually take new clients this late in the day,” I said.
“And I don’t negotiate. Ever. You either
agree to take my case or you don’t,” she said, her voice a hiss of steam from
the radiator of her mouth—
a mouth I very much wanted to tap on,
make hiss more.

xxx

Thursday
case local cut-rate gumshoes’ offices
assess for degree of misogyny, alcoholism, impulsivity, receptiveness to feminine wiles—spreadsheet?

Friday
buy new red lipstick—matte, long-wear
have mourning dress altered to specs of chosen detective
buy eye drops

Saturday
kill husband
hide and obfuscate evidence

Sunday
apply eyedrops before cops arrive for questioning about dead husband
assess detectives for degree of misogyny, alcoholism, impulsivity, receptiveness to feminine wiles—spreadsheet?

Monday
rest day
hole up, pretend to grieve
brainstorm ways to pit police detectives against private detective
yard work—allergic reaction will make voice husky and sexy tomorrow

Tuesday
use eyedrops again
chain smoke in case allergic reaction to yard work hasn’t made voice husky and sexy enough
SEDUCE SEDUCE SEDUCE