A Carceral Sun’s Warmth

Jason S. Harmon


Like passing time muddles memories of long lost loves,
so too has prison chilled my summer’s sun;
She’s so seldom seen,
and she’s never warm;
Razor-wire and bulletproof glass have shorn her warmth.
Relationships with nature,
They don’t exist in this hole,
Lines with weather-proof concrete,
Sealed with steel doors.
Further     …
Further                     …
Into this dystopian storm,
Raining rifle-rounds, razors, and rusty bolts.
Man-made horrors!
Revolving doors!
Asylums where mental illness is born!
And society?
Society sanctions these cyclical norms,
Locking up children who underperform,
Completing our circuits with cellblock dorms,
Complacently speaking of some social reforms,
Complicit in causing such carceral harms,
Culpable in robbing our sun of its warmth!