Fire Elsewhere

1.

Charlotte called today. She said her mother is sick, and she still hasn’t heard back from the parole board. Someone else picked up the phone. She said, “I found your record. Here is a note that your student attorney left for you.” And before she even uttered my name, I ran to her booth and knelt down to talk to Charlotte.

Charlotte was running out of time. It was almost count time. However, she managed to ask me how I was doing. I told here that I am leaving law school to study creative writing soon. I said, remember we were talking about writing a book about you. She said she was still interested, “very much hoping to do that.”

Then it was time.

2.

Frank lifted his trouser legs and showed me the abrasion on his knees. “They made us kneel for five, six hours. They had dogs to bite you if you didn’t kneel upright.”

He forgot the word for “April.” Said March first, and asked me what was the word for “four, the fourth month in a year.”

3.

My hometown has been locked down, and people were wearing masks.

The maximum security prison has been locked down, and people were wearing masks. So that when they go into the prison cell to beat people up their faces are not on camera.

4.

Even sleep is no longer a safe place to hide. Fears morphed into dreams of all shapes. Day after day I found myself awake at midnight.