Posted in Poetry

Id Behind Bars

her Self
— long injected
with a plaque of SE shoulds
at last declined to live under
this harsh regime, these rules —
plotted an autogenous course
around the concertina wire
that pierced, that guarded

packed her clothes
covered the spy equipment
in last night’s leftover gravy
fled the compartment
with a bottle of birch water
and a pocketful of time table crumbs

Day 3 of April 2019

No prompt except something that Charley (Portofino) said that kicked this off.

© Jilly All Rights Reserved



A wild soul writing poetry.

4 thoughts on “Id Behind Bars

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