By Arya F. Jenkins
photo: Arya-Francesca Jenkins
How fast can you write a poem
Unhinged
No phone pen or paper in
Your crowded lonely cell
Surrounded by hollering pain and sorrow
Nothing to calm your mind
Not even sky
How fast
Strolling through a cement maze where
Ravaged women sharpen their bitterness and
Dreams of paybacks like sivs
How fast can you write a poem at night
Lights blinking you mad your
Bunkie moaning under the weight
Of exhausted fantasies
Everything a bad dream
How fast when
Writing itself is so foreign as to
Be the wildest thing
Furthest from reach
Not to be believed
How fast
Can you call up words
Imaginary fences and stones
To stave off that crushing sense of
Where you are
Staring up at a blank ceiling
As if it alone remembers you