you have a visitor

you have a visitor
the guard tells you, rattling
his club
against your cell bars.
get up.
let's go, put your hands
behind you.
we need to cuff you.
you shuffle
down to the plexi-glass
window
with a small confessional
styled screen that
separates you
and your mother.
I made you a cake, she
says, but they won't
let me give it to you.
I saw a guard helping himself
to a slice.
they're checking it for
weapons and saws.
no sweat mom, you say.
it's cool.
are you going to visit
me when you get out, she
says.
yes. you tell her.
sunday. because i'm making
a pot roast on sunday.
will you be out by then?
maybe, we'll see.
you never visited me
before. your sisters, yes.
but you, no.
okay, okay, when I get out.
sunday. set a plate
for me.
I told you not to cut
off the those mattress
labels, but no, you don't listen.
and those parking tickets.
you should have paid
them.
you don't listen to your
mother. do you?
okay, okay. I have to go
now mom. we have to lift weights.
and get some more
tattoos.
tattoos, oh my. just break
my heart some more, would you.
gotta go now mom,
I have to go...there's a fight
in cell block C
that i'm invited to.
sunday, she says, pleading
as she bangs on the glass.
sunday. you promised.
sunday you tell her, then
shuffle back to your cell.