Police say I should have pressed charges 

at the time. At the time, calling the cops 

made me a rat bitch. The one time I did, 

an officer stepped through the threshold 

of where my door had stood on its hinges 

hours earlier. He slouched in my armchair, 

sipped tea brewed from my manners. 

I clutched at what I assumed a fractured rib, 

and he sighed, or huffed, or maybe just 

exhaled a bit too loud. This neighbourhood, 

the same every night. When you say he “broke in.” 

Lady. He closed his notepad. Calm down now. 

Didn’t he have a key?