Blog

Image:  At the Door (acrylic on canvas, 24” x 18”)

I love going to live plays, and here on Pender Island, Solstice Theatre puts on a couple each year.  This fall they mounted an Agatha Christie classic, And Then There Were None - but I missed it because of a bad cough I couldn’t shake.  This was doubly disappointing to me, as I am a huge mystery fan.  I hear the play was a smash hit, too.  Ah well.  To honour drama and mysteries, this week I’m posting “The Eleventh Situation” from my book Suddenly, So Much (Exile).


The Eleventh Situation

Gozzi maintained that there can be but thirty-six tragic situations. Schiller took great pains to find more, but he was unable to find even so many as Gozzi. — Goethe


Another enigma.  You're drawn in again, tempted
again to convict the obvious suspect without question.
Except it doesn't work.  The lover's alibi,
clearly designed to beguile anyone looking
into his whereabouts, holds up.  You assume the problem
lies elsewhere, begin to search for a subliminal hint

lurking in the kitchen. Surely this is where such a hint
would take shape. Bare counters. Cold stove. You're tempted
by aromas, follow them outdoors where a minor problem
takes your mind off the all-important question.
A small voice you ignore tries to suggest you've overlooked
something. You're too busy sniffing two intricate alibis,

morning glory and roses, hopelessly intertwined.  Alibi
four steps forward, obsessively dissembling, hints
she likes roses too. You lose track of what you were looking
for, wander back inside where you try tempting
the husband with incriminating questions.
His answers implicate the maid who was away. The problem

seems to be your inability to solve problems.
Stonewalled by everyone, even the most obtuse alibi
secure, you suspect you never knew how to question
suspects.  In the corner of your eye a new hint
ducks in and out of the garage (perhaps you can tempt
the chauffeur with a trap) but the camera is looking

at the victim's sister watching the game and you're looking
at third strike for the third time. Face it, the problem
was out of control the minute you forgot that temptation
involves deceit.  Was it really a perfect alibi
that led you astray? Did you imagine every hint?
You're not quite ready to question

your own motives — if you start that line of questioning
there'll be no end to it and you're out of time as it looks
like the end is near.  At last an obscure hint
surfaces, explaining nuances until the problem
dissolves and the case is cracked with a broken alibi
(finally!). The small voice interrupts when the ads attempt

to tempt you with mattress sales and a barbecue hinting
at your hunger. It says the only problem worth looking
into is all you will buy without question.


This poem is a sestina, which features a specific pattern for repeating the last words of each six-line stanza.  As Kate Braid and I explain in In Fine Form (Caitlin): “If the numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 represent the end words in the first stanza, then the pattern for the end words in each of the next five stanzas (when compared with stanza 1) is: stanza 2:  6-1-5-2-4-3; stanza 3:  3-6-4-1-2-5; stanza 4:  5-3-2-6-1-4; stanza 5:  4-5-1-3-6-2; stanza 6:  2-4-6-5-3-1.”  All six words also appear in the final short stanza, in the middle and at the end of each line, in the following pattern: 2-5 / 4-3 / 6-1

The eleventh situation is the enigma.