three purple iris
poised among crystal dew
morning-blurred sun
back drops black birds
flickering across day canvas
raucous as they sip
from glistening blades
Mustafah, grey tomcat sits
regal beggar awaiting
free-fall breakfast
and I, a prisoner, luxuriate
wealthy in morning light
wrapped in this anywhere world tableau
guards' voices clang
the last drops of bitter coffee
nudge my lips into resolution
Mustafah flees
Sunday becomes prisonAugust 1997
This poem appeared in Rescue the Word
Marilyn in FCI Dublin (California) 1998