reconstruction of an accusation

 

the whereabouts of Rene Beauchemin,

unpublished poet on the lam, was reported to the cops.

they busted into his cold-water suite with a stern

flat-footed kick to the door which caused it to collapse

in a cloud of dust, ending strangely in a sound

akin to the deepest register a muted tuba makes.

inside, after the cops poked-around, they grabbed

a bunch of poems from the table and waved them

accusingly in clumsy Rene Beauchemin's face

who sheepishly declared: “those aren’t mine”.

so the cops collared him for plagiarism instead.