In Solitary

Clapping clouds in silent communion
Of longing discourses,
Pellets of pebbled tongue
And wreath of words,
I encounter loneliness.
I dialogue with the silent wall.

I feel the bars with my hand
In the stinking cell,
Separated by the gory wall
Smeared with baked excrement.

My limbs slump on the faeces-gummed
Slippery floor, and I feel the scars
More in my throat than in my flesh
Where the whip really pierced.

I clench at the bars
With my trembling hands.

My soul longs to see beyond
The dawn of this daybreak.