Description of a murder on the prison rec yard one warm summer afternoon as seen through the eyes of poet #7145


Love is not dead here
it’s only in suspended animation
And every now and then (if you listen)
there’s a hopeful note, even among the cursing voices
of these crap shooters on the rec yard

Somebody’s go’na die today
‘Cause too many dreams are in the pot
and everybody ’round the circle is ready to die if necessary
’cause we’re all down to our last dreams


There’s a ballet
Three dancers
Two prancing in circles around one standing still, piercing him
sending him through a series of bazar upper torso movements
As spectators in box seats on stilts clutch high-powered rifles
and watch through binoculars

And it pisses me off ’cause the band has stopped practicing, to watch
And it should have been done to music!

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