No . . . . You May Not . . . .

No . . . . You May Not . . . . Hear the morning song birds. No . . . . You May Not . . . . Feel warm sunshine on your skin. No . . . . You May Not . . . . Have the wind lap and dance around your…

1F (A poem about a women’s open air pod)

We occupy 48 beds, two rows of 12 times two. The prisoners are constantly changing, coming and going, coming back. Our punishments don’t equal the crime, our futures are uncertain. We are mothers, daughters, wives, sisters and aunts thrown together. It was not our choice, we were classified alike. We all have different personalities, we…