After the asking is ended <br />Before reason takes charge <br />There is the torrent of rage <br />Pungent incense of offense. <br /> <br />Why are we so greedy for credit? <br />Why not let it go? <br />Do we need recognition that badly? <br />Are we erased when our work is not seen? <br /> <br />She could think this through now <br />In the cold blankness of her cell <br />The rough wool of her blanket against her <br />The slight clink of the watchman's knell. <br /> <br />Measured time, measured pace, measured space. <br />The block was orderly and gray. <br />None of the upended chaos of her former life <br />Frenzied sounds and smells and frays. <br /> <br />Annise pulled the pillow beneath her cheek <br />Liking the tautness of the ticking. <br />She didn't pull out the frayed strings of thought, <br />Ignored the logic and the plot. <br /> <br />She would rest, gain balance, <br />Avoid thinking, clear her mind. <br />Was she guilty? Was she wronged? <br />Let the media sort out fruit from rind. <br /> <br />Did she miss the children? <br />Had her husband disappeared? <br />Was the lawyer competent? <br />She recalled the recorder's nail polish was <br />smeared. <br /> <br />Four years, and they pronounced her free. <br />Free to what? she wondered silently. <br />She nodded at the cameras, <br />Straightened her blouse, <br />And climbed on the bus, headed for the coast.<br /><br />suxanne popp<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/commuted-sentence/
