PRISONER PERSON

Prisoner person, look at me, down here.
You shouldn't be up there; it should be me.

You are young; you wear brown skin.
I am a vintage suit, grey headed wine.

Prisoner person, I told them it wasn't you.
I wrote it all down.
You were hanging around in the park
smoking, drinking, kicking a ball with your friends.

They were insistent.
"You can't know that. You can't be sure it was him.
Look.Look at these pictures. You can't tell the difference."

The pictures were all the same

But I've known you since you were little,
you used to walk home, kicking leaves, with my son.

Prisoner person, where will they send you?

Why won't they believe me.

Take me.

Take me instead.

I am more guilty than you.

Learn more about this author, Adrian Boddy.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

---

Add your voice

Know something about Poetry: Guantanamo Bay?
We want to hear your view. Write now!