In my rages I dismembered
with a knife near my domain,
causing death by a head-sever—
two were gone, then just remains.
I’d need sages in the courtroom
who would be my “friends,” although I appall.
Two were dead ’cause of the shivving
with my knife; I couldn’t stall.

Had to haul, was pressed to cover
my tracks and lose the blade that hewed.
With head still on, I was scheming:
if the cops found it, I’d be screwed.
Hid it where it could not be detected:
I cleaned and stashed it beneath a floor.
I hoped the cops would never learn about it. . .
killed my wife, and then one more.

Twenty-two years later, it’s detected:
when my place was razed, it was disgorged
back in ’98; we’ve just now learned about it.
It’s my knife I’d stuffed in stor’ge.

With my knife I snuffed, slit-gorge.