Supermax Poem by David Keplinger

In Florence‚ Colorado‚ the prisoners
sit glum‚ like superheroes stripped
of their utility belts: no pens permitted
in one's cell. Night‚ the gates soar open;

secret caves—more heroes stream inside.
In Reading Club the murderers discuss
Miss Havisham on fire as Pip leaps
through the falling rafters‚ failing

to defend her. Together they imagine
one generic gown‚ the flare of lace‚
the wedding cake the last to burn‚
but there are differences the mind holds

back. How the disappointed face exclaiming Pip!
is each man's long dead mother.