Jail

When the door clanks shut that’s jail—in the dark body boiling heart beating fast—trapped in anxiety—the bench is a bed there’s no one through the bars—nowhere to go—waiting is all—the concrete—hard & cold—the door is solid wood with a little window that slides back to reveal eyes the sink & toilet unused five feet to pace in the vibrating memory of all who’ve stood here in guilt and fear—my frail flesh contained by steel—anger directed by dead eyes—my voice surprises me & no one hears it—I’m a mystery to myself—and there’s no one else in sight—listening waiting & reading the nothing scratched on the wall—talk outside approaching steps echo in the hall key in the back with a hollow ring.