Prison

WARNING: This poem contains violent imagery.

"Prison" by Tara Brenner

They say that every one in four people know someone currently incarcerated in the United States prison system.
And me – I work there
so you can count me in.
When your son or brother has a question
when your husband or boyfriend has a problem
they come to me
I'm beginning to know them.

This guy is in for life.
He works in laundry, says he likes coming into my office to talk to me.
It was his idea to put the shirt over his victims head so that when he shot him point blank in the face he wouldn't get any blood on his new pants.
I've just enrolled him in a GED program, told him he's a thinker.

The kid in North Wing doesn't belong here.
They'd been dating for two years
He was 19, his girlfriend was 17.
The parents called it in.
He got three to give for his trespass
I guarantee you he will leave this place a felon.
Three years in an intensive study in the criminal mind.
I've seen this kind of thing before.
Hell probably walk out of here a gang member
or a drug dealer.
Believe me, he's nothing but a sex offender now –
and got nothin' to lose.
I never said justice was fair.

The man from 214 likes to wave at me in the hallway.
Tells me he likes what I'm wearing.
Three years ago he talked some girl my age into his apartment
handcuffed her to his son's crib,
dressed her in red lingerie,
took a picture or two,
and raped her for two hours straight.
If it was me, I wouldn't have let her go.
But when the cops came to arrest him
they started going through his picture phone
only to see image of girl after girl after girl in red lingerie.

I have to remind myself that I walk among inmates every day.
Because I'm beginning to feel more comfortable.
I've started building a home here.
I'm finding iron bars in my closets
and razor wire under my bed sheets.
I'm beginning to watch my back whenever I'm getting ready to fall asleep.

They say that every one in four people know someone currently in the United States prison system.
Me, I know over 2,000 men currently serving time.
I'm beginning to get an idea of what monsters really look like.
Standing tall in the dark with eyes wide and excited.
They're beginning to look like people.
And I'm lying to you.
Because every time I look at you I can no longer see you for who you are
but only what you are capable of doing.
There's no investigation report out here to prove your innocence to me
and to be quite honest with you
I feel safer in there
and I'm sorry.
I chose a life between locked gates
and concrete walls
I'm sorry that I'll never let you get close enough.
The inmates say that if you stay in the system long enough
that you won't want to leave.
I've been building a cell here bar after bar and brick after brick.
I'd rather stay with the demons I know
than brave the domons I don't
just mark my name on the list of people you know in prison.