Lying on a rough cane mat
In a narrow cell
Which the sun cannot find
And wher the air is still %%
North and South. East and West
Four brick walls
And a zinc roof :
Iron Bar City
Slip-slop, slip-slop,
Footsteps halt
At the door of the cell
The guard comes and goes
Like clockwork
In pain, kicked and punched
In the back, in the guts
I suffer all five agonies
I hear the rhythm of my breathing
But my voice is mute
My mouth is shut
Unblinking, I smile
3/10/88