Reader Comment    By Willie Christopher Tucker    Bio/Address

Imprisoned in a cubicle

dark, dreary, stone walls, steel bars, the glass tempered

sink, toilet, steel bunk, the solid

slabs, enclosures, and concrete floors,

several shades, pale yellow and mint green, chrome,

black and white emotionless

colors surround me, minute by minute

into a new decade, reading, writing— letters,

photographs, weeping for freedoms

sake, in this meager existence, sitting, pacing, lying

down, blank walls, faceless

engulfed in pity, sorrow, and regret, the crime

eternal, grains of sand, stone, and steel bars,

cold to the touch, a death blow

to the mind, physical, torture, ever present,

an inescapable reality, fighting

to survive the castrating cubicle.