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The prison days are hot
The sky drops its sweat
Waters the earth
Where the sole gun tower
Drops its lonely shadow
Upon the inmates garden

Dark wheat growing tall
As tall as the walls
The inmate gardener stood still

We do not dare cross
The out of bounds
Painted yellow lines

Birds fly into the prison
The prison garden
Our escape

Disclaimer: The views in this article are those of the author. Prison Journalism Project has verified the writer’s identity and basic facts such as the names of institutions mentioned.

Jessica Garza is a writer and artist incarcerated in California.