penpal

I knew someone that went to prison

He was just an acquaintance

But I had a picture of him in my mind

Crying and turning red

Hysterical

While saying some words

At a dead friend’s memorial

When he went to prison

I wrote him a letter

Because I felt bad

Because I remembered seeing him

Crying and red

Soft and transparent

Like rice paper and milk

Crumpling and curdling in front of me

Hysterical

His letters were so positive

He wanted to be a welder

And have a garden

One day, he innocently gave my address to another inmate

Who claimed he knew me

And wrote me a letter

That sent out feelers and whispered through my hair

As I shuddered in the quiet empty 

Of my once private room

Crying and red

My penpal could tell

And after that

He stopped writing to me

I think because he knew

Because he could tell

Something pent up was cutting through me

And into him