Again


Again 
the prison is lonely
bars of bones
come from bodies
blown listless with regret
and solitary grievances.
So quiet, the smallest noise
is painful,
the tiniest movement
creaks with rust.
Not enough life to cry.
Dry and empty,
standing still as bones
cast shadows like secrets
that rustle in the air
like painted leaves.
Sit and wait
for another day
to come-
and then
another
and
then