DISSONANCE

The prison I return to is the one
I was told was a precious thing,
that the fragile bars were delicate, 

 “Do not disturb” the imaginary chains,
the imaginary locks, 
images I’ve painted on the see-through walls, 

 and standing on the rubble I wonder 
why it was that I wanted to believe so badly 
that I was willing to reconstruct a new cell 

on the same site.