Nov 24, 2019

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. 

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