She crept up behind you & tied yr hands behind yr back. Pulled yr pants off, & started to jerk you off. Fields of clouds, striped red & yellow, springing up all around you. This, anyways, is what you told the police. & how it hurt. & how it really hurt. Till she was bent up against a tree. A temple reclaimed by the jungle. If she was alive now, you said, she’d apologize. & then go at you again.
Rauan confesses: I like to watch crime documentaries and sometimes, in the heat of the moment, I scribble down notes that may find their way into my poems. One night, in my Vegas hotel room, scarfing down tubs of ice cream mixed with hot Doritos, I jotted down such notes.