CELL SONG
Night Music Slanted
Light strike the cave
of sleep. I alone
tread the red circle
and twist the space
with speech.
Come now, etheridge, don’t
be a savior; take
your words and scrape
the sky, shake rain
on the desert, sprinkle
salt on the tail
of a girl,
can there anything
good come out of
prison
Etheridge Knight. Poems from Prison (1968)
