Watson Retires

Always back-seat driving, poor Watson. Not a
magnifying glass you can call your own thing.
License to investigate doesn’t come from
being a doctor.

Holmes would act mysterious, high priest of a
strange, occult detective fraternal order,
running rings around other thinkers. Brilliant,
arrogant, graceless.

Let it go now. History’s verdict on you:
best of sidekicks, loyal companion. Close your
casebooks, crime and medicine. Hemlock flowers
bloom in your garden.

--for Poefusion. This poem is written in Sapphic stanzas.

Collection available! Knocking from Inside