It’s night, and
the walk is closed.
If you are found on it now,
you may be shot.
Brown brick structures surround me,
impeding my foresight, but
at least the sky is free.
To my right, the ground gives way
to a flexible wall guarded
by ten million little soldiers
armed with bayonets.
In the sunset they are a silver waterfall,
but now natural illumination gives way
to artificial moonlight that
reflects itself in innumerable glimmers
on miles of woven ductility.
It’s quiet: a whole city sleeps,
dreaming visions far removed
in time and place.
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.