The Clue (poem)

The Clue

They had traveled together a good distance

His manner of expression gave her pause

He doubted she would understand these words

And every pleasantry he uttered

“I hope you haven’t heard all this before”

Was mortared in its place to stop a fault from growing

He fluttered samples of his scribblings from his pockets

Stuffed with just enough expanse to draw his knees

Up between these sacks of sprouted seeds

He’d wheezed his thanks for the time she’d spent

And meant to end this interview

All that, he told himself, is past

He alone of the old circle mourned

Rain-slicked streets and murder in shadowed places

A man who knew how to strike up useful friendships

Sought his jailer, the holder of his purse strings

At the scenic overlook they met

He listened to the old campaigner’s sloganeering

On this hobbling path behind his back the monkey wrench

What the soldiers had been told of their assignment

“Go, go, go!”

The heckler’s text

An infinity symbol above an “O”

Overlooked the rebus clue

Over, below, beside, next to

The Clue

Sail past

(2016, Stephanie Foster)