Why I dream Olivia Benson

V

I sold knives in stranger's homes, diced

carrots on tables. I believed

in their steel-- knew how sharp they were.

IV

The detective told me my rapist's last name

was Justice. The kit wouldn't be back for

at least a year. I didn't have HIV.  

III

Two days after it happened the hospital called.
My Potassium level was heart-threatened-
low from all the fingers down my throat. A butterfly

needle into my vein, I watched the IV bag empty

itself into me.

II

The day after it happened they said, pluck
50 pubic hairs. Either you can do it or we can. Gloved doctor

said no bruises, no torn flesh. He hmphed and left,

my shame-- raw,
warm yolk, cracked
over my body.  

I

19 and you know the story: short skirt it's true

it's trite my cheeks rouged from drink

that night. The house-- a strangers I can't see clearly.

When I woke he was inside me, mermaids
swimming in my mouth.

0

A cloud of cold deja vu leaves itself

in my eyes, layers over layers--

grape rhymes with drape rhymes
with freight but I must tell it, must tell

the not again of it--why

I don't buy those beautiful
brown pears anymore.