Cell Anatomy

Cell Anatomy
by Eric Hansen

Alison stayed home from school
with the flu, nothing dangerous.
Her father the warden worked
giving orders down the road.
The girl lay feverish and cold
listening to the patrol truck
circle the perimeter every eight
minutes. A guard tower watched
over the front yard. The girl got
up, too frail to bother changing
out of her pajamas. Turned two
locks on the back sliding door,
lifted the bar from the frame,
sat on the patio in a chaise
lounge. Surrounding the yard,
inmates snipped the azalea hedge
into walls. The men, mostly
black, saw the white girl and kept
their sheer cutting. In America
everyone lives with regret.
She opened her bones
to the sun. Wished nobody
had to know this sickness.