Focused my concentration on a barred window
hoping it would move , thought too hard about
my family hoping they might be moved
Borrowed a dictionary to pass the time
So sad that my thoughts didn't seem to rhyme
On my way to intensive care with Atlanta
in the window , incessantly medicated the
entire month of June , cuffed to a stretch with
no poem in my head , left for dead by the head
of the anguish for which I bled
My home , now a plexiglass window , condensation free
without pen or pencil , no finger can write prose
to calm my days , opting for a bathroom mirror to
explain myself away