From “Tempest” by Roberto Carlos Garcia

_{caliban lies face down on a cot in a 6 x 9 x 12 jail cell
he writes a letter to his mother, sycorax}

[caliban:]

some days raft

some days tire

some days sea ocean wrath

some days shore

some days coffin

some days van

some days la bestia

some days coyote

some days border patrol

some days militia

some days ditch

some days dry white bones in sand

some days bombings

some days refugee camps

some days treks through europe

some days slavers

some days 5—out in 3

some days 10 to 15 no parole

some days public defender

some days no play

but always, always,

we are trapped in a cell

the one inside or the one outside

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