I.
this poem was caught
outside your window
with his pants down.
after his needs were met
he was quite content to watch
despite his shame.
he knew that you sang,
for instance, "julia,"
while thinking of raul julia.
that still baffles the poem,
but he's careful not to judge.
as they haul him away with all
the lights on and the reporters flash
cameras going off, he pleads nothing
but collects his pants
and his pride, justifying his
actions as servants of his art. would it
serve you to press charges? does he
belong with the hardcore among the
recidivists? what would be his penance
to justify a sentence? how would he explain
to the rapist gang that he wasn't after anything
but a particular type of closeness encased
in a cadence?
II.
the poem became
a letter
to be read to all family members
admitting shame and guilt
and a characteristically generosity
toward those that, given the circumstances,
he would understand if they chose never
to visit.
III.
the poem became
graffitti above the sink
in his cell. his "cellie" called
it "perfunctory," whatever that
meant. his cellmate was no stranger
to the written word offering, in its
way, an avenue for understanding
and compassion. he claimed to have
been a preacher "in the free world." the
poem had no reason to disbelieve, and with a
swollen "S" he wrote his cellie's name
emboldened by scratch-marks and the rubber-soul
type that has become so popular amongst de-facers
of all stripes. when the officers found out
about the graffitti, they "wrote up" the poem,
giving him his first official "case," which
he discovered, could cause him grief down the line.
IV.
the poem has
now gone through a Christian walk
of faith and is proclaiming all his words
to be for the LORD. from now on everything
will be a psalm, a hymn, or a contemporary song,
extolling the virtues of mercy and grace.
V.
the poem now thinks twice about
what it means to observe
and to be observed. he admits
no passivity and that, though forgiven
for what he represented at the window,
he must continually petition for the understanding
and forgiveness of the "victim." he relates to the
victim for the first time, placing himself in her shoes,
and though ill-fitting, continues on his pilgrimage/his walk.
VI.
the poem is a letter, to an attorney
a letter to a felon's ministry
a letter to a sponsoring church
a letter to his brethren back home -
all poems not meaning any harm,
but still harming despite their admitted
impartiality. a letter to his editor
to his agent, to his parole-board.
VII.
the poem is tired
of rejection
of perceived heresy
of the pretense of
brotherhood. he vows
an overthrow of something. he's
done all the right things and walked
the straight and narrow path
but nobody seems to see
the righteousness. it's all for naught.
this is a conspiracy he thinks. he's ready
to throw in the proverbial towell and live
for today. he constructs a shiv and vows
vengeance and develops a construct for
a personal crusade. his cross is his sword
and vice-versa. he wants to be heard:
GODDAMN you fucking unchurched.
I AM is what He is called and i feel the same.
VIII.
the poem sees the errors in his logic. he wants
forgiveness (again) but knows he's already forgiven.
he's sorry for offending the Son for asking again for
the gift he's already received.
IX.
it's time
it's nearly time
i've paid what debt i owe
he thinks. he becomes a
petition
resting on the heart
of the descenting vote
and he becomes heavy
then heavier as the
time nears for the parole board
to convene. they hear his case
and it comes down to this one
vote to determine
the fate of the poem. has this been
written in the posterity
of the Lord's will. can he be released -
to be read again and understood
can he unite with some music
to make the words more pallatable?
can he, once again, become the sweat
and toil and troubles of all mankind. can
he hope to one day lurk under a window
again to see and understand the inner workings
of a woman? has it been too long since he's seen
her crying and wishing for understanding
and passion. can he be her link to the romance
of which she dreams? can he be her rescue. can
he unite his uniqueness with hers? can he read her
heart like a medical chart and render her human?
can he, through her, write for all men and women
in the world and know that they are all alike:
scared and unsure, wanting only to be heard
and understood? can he?
X.
would he develop an aversion
to all sensitive things and learn to adapt himself
to the pulpier of the fictions that make the rounds
in the jail-talk around the tv in the day-room? would
he become friends with fight club, and anything
by elmore leonard? would
he get one of those tattoos that line the arms, neck, and hands?
would he renounce all that had come before, kneeling in
supplication and curse the filth in which he finds himself.
would images of you sustain him as
one of those correction officers gets caught
with his pants down outside the cell?
as they drag him away, the poem
is heard to whisper, "i understand."
(c) jim hill 3-19-2010
