THREE NEW POEMS

Editor’s note: While Charlie was in solitary in April (for no reason), he took some productive breaks from writing grievance forms and appeals and climbed that poem tree, putting voice to several he found there. We hope you enjoy them.

Libby

#1  WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?

One morning when my mother was busy tending the baby

I slipped a butter knife from the kitchen drawer for protection

while I took a forbidden walk in the deep woods behind our house.

At first it was fun, exploring narrow trails, picking ripe berries,

listening to birds calling and squirrels chittering, getting thirsty,

bending down and sipping from a clear stream, startling a resting deer.

Imagining myself to be a brave warrior hunting to feed my tribe,

making noises and slashing bushes with my shiny dull knife,

scaring off any creatures before I saw them, I thought this was paradise.

Among the tall pines, wide oaks, hickories, sweet gum and persimmon,

knobby crabapples, I could play forever without a care,

until my stomach grumbled and I worried I’d be late for lunch.

When I turned back, the trees all looked the same: dense, uninviting;

instead of being my friends, they seemed to hem me in.

I was lost in the dark woods with no idea which way was home.

I told myself I was a big boy, though at six I fought the urge to cry.

wandering, confused, I turned this way, then that, afraid at last

that I might never be found, condemned to starve or be eaten by bears.

Then I heard a quick rustling of leaves, sounds coming nearer, I feared

the worst, but instead appeared my dog, “Little!” I cried, while

he wagged and twisted and licked my face of tears of joy.

He kept looking back as he led me home, as though concerned I might

wander off again, but soon our yard and house appeared, my mother

at the back door, asking, “Where have you been? Are you hungry, boy?”

#2  NEXT YEAR

I twiddle the heart-shaped seed,

turn it lightly, study the black stripes

that define it, debate whether to crack

it open between my teeth. Instead,

on impulse I bend down, shove the seed

into the warm soil, and walk away.

Soon a struggling green sprout emerges,

awakens to the bright sun, and every day

I pass to mark its growth until, like

Jack’s magic bean, the husky stalk with

its billowing leaves reaches my height

with little concern for the attentions of men.

At first a meager closed head atop

a massive leaved trunk, facing the earth,

the bud begins to swell. In days it

rises toward the eastern sky, enclosing

petals open, revealing yellow glory within.

Before long it becomes a mighty sunflower.

Outshining every garden bloom, the queen

summons humble bumble bees to attend her,

sharing pollen and nectar with the swarms

who seek her bounty, seeds fattening with oil.

Tired now, weight too great to hold up, the

head turns again toward the ground beneath.

One day I see a sparrow gripping a dry

leaf next to the bulging cache of seeds, hanging

upside-down, pecking, pecking, heart-shaped

striped seeds raining to the soil, where other birds

gorge themselves. I tickle some seeds into my

hand, enough to save for sunflowers next year.

 #3  FOUR WHITE WALLS

Four white walls

            surround you,

                        enclose you.

This is no time for claustrophobia.

            Get over it.

                        Be strong or give up.

There is no air.

            You run your fingers over the grill

                        that passes for a window

Seeking light.

            There is none,

                        Only a bare whisper of warm air.

The sliding steel door

            slams shut. Clang!

                        You are locked in.

Only a sliver of bulletproof glass

            allows a look out at the other catacombs

                        of the living.

Why is the glass bulletproof?

            you wonder.

                        We have no guns.

They do. Get off the door!

            someone shouts,

                        Or I’ll write you up.

What does he mean, get off the door?

            Don’t let them see you

                        looking out, someone whispers,

Don’t let them hear you

            talking.

                        It’s against the rules.

Nurse is coming

            to see if you’re still alive.

                        Sitting upright is proof enough.

Don’t look at her!

            Forbidden fruit

                        well past its sell-by date.

They shaved your head

            when you came in chains.

                        Dehumanization process began.

Don’t talk, don’t look,

            Don’t do nothing,

                        one tells you.

How long do I have to stay back here?

            you ask. Someone answers,

                        Until you die.