Denver County Jail by Ben Rasnic

Caged in a six by nine
cell, human cargo secured
within stone washed tombs;
scribbling notes on granite walls,
my thoughts rain millstones
I pile upon myself,

naked, my veins appear
as bruises beneath the skin,
alabaster white envelops bones
soft as chalk.

A fleeting conspiracy of shame and
rage flickers in the skull,
socket of a firefly yielding
its spindling shell
to the vacuum chamber
of an old Mason Jar.

I close my eyes to seal the pain,
bound to the custody
of the mind’s gray marrow and
the echo of mute appeals..

Magnum shadows of parallel bars
tattoo the consciousness
as the clock of my muscles
winds strangely down.

If only I could shed these prison grays,
this uniform shackle of flesh,
I would fly out
past the poker faced guards
and the armed sentry towers,
lasers revolving barbed wire roulette.

I would fly out
into the high camouflage
of dark trees
and vanish

the way the spirit flies from me
each time the iron gate
clangs shut.

Ben Rasnic is originally from Jonesville, Va (population <1000). His published poetry collections include: “Artifacts and Legends”, “Puppet”, “The Eleventh Month” and “Synchronicity”.