Prison Poetry

The Dammed

At the age of twenty

body still soft with adolescence
he stands in a steel mesh case
alone; he stands in his underwear
still wet from a brief cold shower
to wash the pepper spray
from eyes and skin. His head
is freshly shaved
pale and patchy with stubble
like dirty marble; he laughs
while another man bleeds
cleans blood from a plastic gurney
and cold naked concrete
while other prisoners sit
in he uncertain, sweltering heat;
he laughs
while black-winged kites
circle the open pit
where guards still,
and somewhere manicured fingers
rifle his paper life
damned in ink.

By Martin Williams

This poem came from the book titled More Poems.
I really like this poem in particular because it has such great imagery to it.

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