Transference
The inmate says he wants
to smash someone’s head
against a concrete floor.
My brother’s stolen
my land, and here I am
stuck in jail.
His face is livid,
his fist twitching.
We spend all day
meditating in silence;
eight hours in a quiet room
with a concrete floor,
I breathe his anger in.
The next morning,
my neck’s so stiff and sore,
I have to hold my head
with my hands to save my neck
from its weight.
The inmate punches a guard,
is strait-jacketed,
taken upstate.
Six months till my head
and neck exhale, six months
to heal the ache.
by Laura Foley, first published in Mom Egg Review.
Editor’s Note: Sometimes empathy isn’t enough.
Leave a Reply