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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required SOLITARY CONFINEMENT 1 : Number Four Many chains, many locks and bars clattered at four in the morning black bitter coffee drugged a single bucket of cold water it was winter I had ten minutes to speak with a small piece of soap then bucket and soap was ripped away whether I was still naked or not a thought of throwing the water over my head tangled with a thought of throwing it at the cell door a tangle like a tango unlike my taut steel nerves I counted my toes over and over again, then its hairs to stop reading prison graffiti on the cold grey wall they were my loyal friends I couldn’t think of names for them except “Hello Toes” A warden brought me a wooden coloured cube hidden in his dirty hankychief as a gift to play with heedlessly grateful was I At four the next morning Station Commander confiscated it seemed to like that hour I remembered that Ouma Lama said : “Four is when the ghosts leave” In my prison cell, this was when they arrived ~~~ Four a.m was my birth hour too on the fourth day of middle month I guessed four pillars to hold an ever-crumbling roof the roof of my mind Casspirs circled this hour to circumference my home for a pick-up At the calculated dark time neighbours rose sensed war as a moon waned peered at rifles through half drawn curtains Four Casspirs, eight police-vans too many soldiers to count surely a multiple of four for a forty-two kg body a hilarious drama of fear How did mind know it was four in a house with no clock ? It did not ! Gut knew the precise hour the hour I started breathing outside the womb ~~~~ Smiley wily warden wrapped my one daily meal in newspaper winking “something to read…” I read the four sheets over and over again marriage and death notices Memorising dates and names on the oil stained paper At four the next morning Mr Station Commander burnt the newspaper pieces at my numberless cell door number should have been four, yes, you guessed since the station had four cells only one boasted a body, my pipsqueak one with four intact limbs their threat to crack my bones could not succeed I was too connected to external pylons and what with standing for 24hrs at a stretch in the interrogation room my bone calcium strengthened Commander and door both relished a smell of fire at that hour curling smoke was breakfast I saw marriages and corpses go up in momentary flames shed tears for the individuals involved it was my marriage and my corpse time of no sequence small dried leaves found their way into the cell A mystery of How ? no teeny slits anywhere or any slit of sunshine to sail on Winter leaves wanted to shelter lice crawling on a dark grey blanket over the plastic floor mattress I tried to sleep on or perhaps leaves wanted me to make music crushing their veins with my veins a floor never swept or wept the smell of …. dead mice the day of a little fire at the door I ended up screaming at a minuscule wall grate near the ceiling “Bring me a fresh daisy or a mirror !” It brought me the next darkened police vehicle to Caledon Square for another session of 24 hr questions Unanswered ©GhairoDanielsPoetry1981
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