I had a partial
daydream in the dark of the night.
They drag me into
the packed chapel;
pin my arms back
and
hold me up
against the brick wall.
“Shoot her!” the
Bishop shouts.
A shot rings out.
No one cares.
Only I wasn’t as
fat as I am now
for I had been in
a tiny
windowless
circular prison cell
for 20 years.
Just the day
before,
I had declared:
“They can’t break
my heart anymore
because I don’t
want anything they’ve got.”
But they did.
Literally.
