In My Cell

Forty books, mostly poetry,
religion, or politics. Four times
the number I’m allowed.

A Smith Corona Wordsmith 250
that will sometimes, while printing,
go inexplicably berserk.

Appellate briefs, legal work
from my own little war of attrition:
The State vs. Michael Owens.

Old letters from loved ones,
some who left to join the ancestors,
some who just left.

And of course, my guilt,
always in the periphery of my vision,
weighing down the air.