solitary confinement

I remember those long nights in prison.

on my stiff bed, the thin cold mattress
without a sheet,
a hard sand bag
like pillow for my head.

I remember the stripes of
the iron bars, their shadows
long in the corridor.

the sirens, the beams of searchlights,
the rattle of cans
and the whimpers of those
in the cells beside me.

how we whispered into the night
what we'd do when we got out.

the meals we'd eat, the drinks
we'd pour, the places we'd travel,
the women we'd love.

I remember looking up at the ceiling,
listening to her breathe,
hearing her nightmares
come out of her mouth in small cries,

curled like a cold stone in her own
arms, a foot between us in the same bed,
but a thousand miles away.

I scratched another mark on the wall.
another day, another night
without love, without trust, without
freedom.

more alone than I've ever been
in my life,
married
and stuck behind these bars.