Imprisoned Windows

One time when I was a bookseller

I took over the store window

and stacked books by poets in prison.

The owner came in and wrote

CURRENTLY IMPRISONED

“this way it gives me the shivers,”

she said. Surrounding their books

with walls and columns, she drew

grey windows and crossed out days

in detention, much less than

what they have actually spent.

I wanted to make a window

for my imprisoned friend, and friends

of others. At night, they offer a mirror

to strangers, in daylight,

they glitter blinded.

Four weeks had passed as we continued

to work behind the display wall— I couldn’t tell

when the postman stopped by,

or when the drunk dude came in

to jerk off in the History section,

I couldn’t scan the many toned bodies

coming by

It was tough at first, but eventually we forgot

about the light, the sidewalk,

and the FOMOs typical of warm days.

Only later was I reminded

that the wall is still of glass

as I watched the currently-imprisoned

poets being escorted

out of their window.

* Published in the 60th anniversary issue of Ambit Magazine - London.