Notes from Exile: Home
Log/Verse: daily reflections from prison, written every morning at my bunk. Part poem, part log book.
Another excerpt from my prison journal, written while I was still incarcerated
HOME
My bunk is seven feet by
eight feet.
I face a cinder block
wall,
a favored view.
And over time I’ve come
to embrace
it.
Even the constant passing of
other inmates,
morph into a pleasant
rhythm.
And occasionally they
peer inside,
but nothing more than
a passing
glance,
that neither of us
acknowledge.
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