Is It Poetry

(1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)

The First Time I Was Raped In Prison It Was Not The Last


I did not know what to expect.
Being brought into this level seven prison.
Union correctional institution,
called the rock.
This was Raiford,
where death row was and still is.
Earl Grey was his name he was in for murder.
From a psychotropic drug induced sleep,
I was in his mouth before I woke up.
Never having been sodomized before the raw terror.
He was long and thick, my cries by the guards
went unheard.
I could not take it all in.
Some how I did find a way out in my head.
The slow stretching and tearing went on forever.
Who else but they no-one cared.
Some even smelled the stink.
This animal, is my shame.
Over and over again, I some how survived.
No one even cared.
Some of U.S. did not make it.
Suiciding by climbing the fences.
The A.R.Fifteens did the rest.
Every night I died a new death.
In Florida the executions were preferable,
to the rapes, no one knew about.
The wardens knew in the garden of dread, made of evil.
Some even took graft and more from some of us.
Other's we're still children under the age of eighteen.

Submitted: Saturday, April 27, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, September 24, 2013

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