The time was almost right <br />for the recitation of a poem <br />when the judge asked me <br />if I had anything to say before sentencing. <br /> <br />I wanted to say Yes – why the 'anything to say' ritual? <br />To make me squirm <br />before the varnished gavel comes down? <br />Oh, and why the gavel ritual? <br /> <br />But I said No. <br />I am guilty <br />so there is nothing else you need to know about me, <br />My crime, not me, <br />sits in a cell with green walls <br />When I arrived I would not lie down <br />Because that would make it my home <br /> <br />A voice on the radio says <br />“My life feels like prison.” <br />I want them to use a different metaphor. <br />One that doesn’t suck my life up <br />and turn it into a little diorama with plastic figurines <br />in aluminum foil chains <br />Behind bars made of pretzels <br />As if I could eat my way out of here<br /><br />Michael Philips<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/prison-as-metaphor/
