INSUFFICIENT EVIDENCE (Poem)

When I called the pig detective

for an update about my case,

he said

“Oh, no one called to tell you?

There was insufficient evidence

to proceed.

The case is closed.”

Through scalding hot tears,

I demanded to know how

and when they would return my stuff—

my stuff they stuffed in clear plastic bags:

my pink corduroy blazer from the Gap and black lace bra,

my beige knee-length shirt-dress I only got to wear once,

my dignity.

He didn’t know.

More objects to add to the list

of stolen property, I guess.

The following week,

I received a $25 check in the mail

for my trouble.

Evidently,

my case and shame

were on discount clearance that day.