by Joey Colby Bernert
Out in the sun
for the first time in days,
believing a smoke will help,
a bit of tar in my lungs
to bring my breath back.
Jeans slipping from my hips,
no belt to hold them.
The brick walkway broken,
littered with butts,
uneven beneath
my laceless shoes.
The doors locked behind us.
We pace in circles,
each planning our own escape,
each hunting for a slice of freedom
in this fenced bastille
that gives nothing away.
© 2025 Joey Colby Bernert All rights reserved.
Click or tap here to see Joey Colby Bernert’s profile.
Use the “Leave a Comment” form below to submit comments on this piece.