Message From An Informal Prisoner*
Sent away for being too obviously broken,
the karma colored walls are only visible
from the inside looking out.
Platonic bricks and a mortar
of well intentioned quicksand
offer the structural integrity of pabulum
and protect the way chalk gives nourishment.
Like fog to the blind or a parachute in a row boat,
your security whistles a chain gang tune.
Don’t despair when the life you’ve heaped
on your plate becomes harder to eat
than the plate. When all that will click are locks,
making that too-late sound; as doors
close like dominos behind you too.