reconstruction of an accusation leading to an arrest

vignette

the whereabouts of Rene Beauchemin,

unpublished poet on the lam for reasons

unknown but to God, was reported to the proper

authorities by the local fink.

the cops busted into his cold-water flat with a stern

flat-footed kick to the door causing it to collapse

in a cloud of dust ending strangely in a muffled

sound akin to the deepest register a muted tuba makes.

inside, after the cops poked-around, they grabbed

a bunch of crumpled poems from the table and waved

them accusingly in clumsy Rene Beauchemin’s face

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

and after a slow-moving awkward tussle the cops

collared him for plagiarism instead.