Sleuth

The folks who used to live in the apartment 

directly across from me hardly 

ever spoke to one another. My kitchen

window faced all their windows—a little thing

like architecture can turn a person into a spy.

She sat at her computer or slept. 

She even ate at her computer. I’d wake up

at sunrise and she’d already be there,

a mannikin tied in place for the night.

This went on for years. I never saw her out 

on the street. He would leave the apartment 

at varying times—it wasn’t clear to where.

I was fascinated by this predictable woman.

It was the pandemic. I needed adventure.

During the lockdown, she would go out, but just

for a few minutes, onto their terrace and bang 

a pot. I banged a pot too—to honor the healthcare

workers—and we waved as we stood 

across from each other with our kitchenware. 

What was she doing at her keyboard

is what I wanted to know. Did she never

get bored? Then they moved. I examined 

the possibilities: divorce, a too-expensive 

city, a new job at—her computer.

A new couple moved in. They sit on the terrace

toward evening with wine glasses and talk 

to one another. They unroll a movie screen 

onto its brick wall and project

sports events. Friends visit for dinner.

They laugh. I have become an excellent 

sleuth. Soon, we’ll cross paths 

on the street. I’ll find out what kind of wine 

they drink and why they like sports so much. 

Susana H. Case is the award-winning author of nine books of poetry, most recently, If This Isn't Love, Broadstone Books, 2023 and co-editor with Margo Taft Stever of I Wanna Be Loved by You: Poems on Marilyn Monroe, Milk & Cake Press, 2022, awarded Honorable Mention for the Eric Hoffer Book Prize. https://www.susanahcase.com