Inside Lansing Prison

[paintmytoenails]

After the fluorescents
Have gone out,
The screaming scrape
Of the cell door
Warns.
Soon the room smells of man
And a blue uniform is
Whispering her way.
She asphyxiates on his balmy
Rancid exhale.
His hands,
Filmy and knobby
From a lifetime of nine to fives,
Smother her most
personal crevices.
Stifling a gag,
She bites
And feels the steel
Enforcer in the soft dip of her back.
He plunges into her with
His self-prescribed
Justice.