Cell Block Memories

the jokerman he faced the crowd — a flame burned in his eye
his quips all grew up quiet, and his wit-well was run dry
the theater completely empty, but somebody still yelled ‘fire’
headlines the next morning called joker’s final show inspired

the director she hung upside down — her thoughts tied in a knot
trying to manage mountainsides, her message long forgot
the cast they took an early lunch — another prequel was postponed
the director burned the celluloid, melted megaphones

the marchioness she was cross-legged, half-naked on her bed
she developed like a photograph of a 1950s ad
she wondered if she wandered home would there still be a lit hearth?
the flames flickered ‘neath her eyelids,  fluttered into prison bars

i walked within my cubicle, ashes to ashtrays
i talked with a memory of you, i’ll try to paraphrase:
‘what’s with this whole world a flame, will we all just suffocate?’
“we can all just smoke our pains away — cauterizing flame with flame”

the watchman he locked us inmates into our unholy cells
cross-eyed and crucified  — our memories left unquelled
sometimes, at night, he wondered what it was like inside our hells
he lit another cigarette; it burned like a farewell.

September, 2016

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