THE WHOLE TRUTH, ALWAYS

So all I want to know now
            is,
  what did they do with
                    the witness,
             the only eyewitness,
    the one with the wet
                  nose and fur coat,

the howling dog of that
          crescent moon night,
  pal of the bloody paw prints,
             the only witness
who could have shut Sheck down,
          looked OJ in the face
                        --and growled,

oblivious to cameras,
         call-in shows, or court
               etiquette,
loyal only to the memory of the limp hand
       that stroked,
            and filled the bowl.


All written material © Bill Schechter, 2016
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