Prisoner in a Hole

Barely twenty-five, he smells
of yesterday’s spit and vomit,
black beard droops in clumps
from his drawn, sun-savaged face.

Hanging from a string
around his neck: a small holy book.

This man was once a child
held against the breast of a mother
who kissed his small meaty hands
that smelled of milk and tears.

Copyright Credit: Sholeh Wolpé, “Prisoner in a Hole” from The Scar Saloon. Copyright © 2004 by Sholeh Wolpé. Reprinted by permission of Red Hen Press.
Source: The Scar Saloon (Red Hen Press, 2004)