bodies

bodies

in prison they talk about
bodies.
how many here,
how many there,
the incarcerated
only
technically
living.
as if each tear rent face
each knotted hand
were blank
and limp.

imagine a fire, they say,
and the doors are locked
from the outside.
wouldn’t you want to take
a separate exit?
the bodies
tumbling down
one stairwell,
you should take the
other.
listen
this could all
go up in flames
in an instant.