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​I had not intended
to take the life
of the clueless husband
or his clumsy wife,
nor that of the dog
that belonged in the back yard.
No.
My intentions
were better by far. 
It all began
with a ring of the bell,
its Church organ chimes
drowned out by a yell.
It chilled me, 
I remember it well now,
at that very moment, the dog
made a long and sorrowful howl.
It was then I threw wide the door,
and ran into the foyer.
The following is against advice
of my Public Defender lawyer.
But she stood over him
holding a bloody knife,
and the dog charged me
with all of its might.
When I sidestepped
as adroitly as a Matador,
it went sliding 
across the floor.
I won’t trouble you with
the grisly details
but upon a common household 
item, the poor beast was impaled.
Then I grabbed the murder weapon
from the wife.
When the prostrate man
sat up straight into the knife
I held reversed in my hand.
Let’s just say, well,
bullseye.
Another primal scream now,
and a savage reply.
Reflexively I raised my hands
and another freak accident, I swear.
When she tackled me,
my arm caught on the chair.
We fell to the floor in a heap.
Her corpse pinning me where I lay.
Now if this two-dollar attorney
is no miracle worker,
I’ll be the fourth loss
in this tragedy today.

M. Zane McClellan

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