formed out of these walls to shape

the air to separate here from there

beneath the dark winter quilts

my skin presses to your warmth

longs to be more than my limits

more than what’s contained inside

more an opening to other spaces

other ways with different lines

to cross with a limping accent

a creole to hone words into an edge

I know only what I know

my cell wall’s textures memorized

through the season’s slow change

the light and shadow through the bars

play their fingers in the silent air

like puppets alive to the string’s pull