A hive of oppression,
a honeycomb of cells
three tiers tall,
edged by catwalks,
separated by corridors
ironically named
Park and Michigan Avenue,
Sunrise Alley, Broadway.
A door of iron bars,
a toilet, small sink,
narrow bed,
fold-out table and seat,
open to wind, dampness,
watchful eyes of guards.
Identical small rooms,
one, after one, after the other,
some designated for isolation
in total darkness
for nineteen days.
No privacy.
No rehabilitation.
Only punishment.
