He was bent over her body
I couldn’t quite see from
my vantage point
looking out the window

He held – I’m not sure what –
in his hand
stooping down I saw
him reach toward her head

she bristled
pulled back
then slumped forward
he stood watching over her

I knew I could make the call
and I know this sounds bad
but there’s only so many times
I want to get involved

still, he looked so concerned
I sighed, slowly stood
made the call
then went to go find a box

[Prompt Five: Write a mystery poem. The crime could be real or imagined. The poem could be clue based or narrative.]