Dustin Brookshire

Upon Receiving A Copy Of My Book Mariska Hargitay Writes Me A Letter

 In this dream,
Mariska tells me
that she and Detective Stabler
are on the case,
even though I never reported it.
They have leads.
The email he sent a year after the rape
gives her a starting point.
She & Stabler are experts
at tracking these sorts of things—
hubris always leaves a trail.
Georgia to North Carolina
back to Georgia and to Florida,
his childhood state, she writes,
We’ll get him, Dustin.
We’ll bring to trial.
I find myself wanting comfort
in her words but there is none
when you think of DNA
long since flushed like my dream
of my first being the one I love.
Detective Bensen’s leads aren’t news.
I want to tell her to help someone else.
It’s been a long six years.
Memories aren’t the only things I’ve buried.
If she goes to Florida digging,
she’ll need to dig deep.
He isn’t moving again,
isn’t emailing me again,
isn’t touching me again.
The dead don’t stand trial.

The Encounter

In bed, he slips his hand under my butt,
tries to slide a finger inside– I clench.
He tells me he wants to be in me,
finger then cock.  I tell him he’ll wait.
His face says he doesn’t often hear no.
“Geez. Were you raped?” he smirks.
Without hesitation I reply, “I was, actually.”
He apologizes. Kisses my forehead.
He pulls my naked body into his
in such a way I feel beautiful.



© Dustin Brookshire

Read the interview with Dustin here.