(Maryland Penitentiary, August, 1991)
As if stricken by our gloom,
the days changed from glowing whites
to dull reds, then slowly into blacks.
In scorching steel boxes we sat
And watched that stream of silence
splash its longing portrait upon sealed
and dusty windows.
Like shadows still,
bruised and bleeding
in that dark germ of a place,
Like flies glued to the belly
of the Emperor's dead cat,
Some of us sat thinking of revenge;
Some sat in pernicious cowardice,
conspiring to collaborate
further with the enemy;
Some just clutched bibles
and wanted to go home.