Bitter cold November day in Leicester nick
Serious pat down, more a massage
Unlock lock, unlock lock, unlock LOCK.
Doors and corridors
Disorientation deliberate, unlock, lock, corridor and
Round the bend.
A man jumped from the castellated turrets
Broke both legs. You would.
On the wing, smell thick institutional stodge.
Echo shouting banging constant.
Eleven men, eleven damaged boys.
Eleven year-old stole stepdad’s Jag
Eleven year-old starting on gear
What’s your favourite song?
Otis on the dock, my dad’s harmonica
Tamla means happy Mum, no more Dad.
Rapper dealer man–boy so clever
No not 2pac, Patsy Cline.
I fall to pieces.
He’s out on Christmas eve
Shops shut and empty handed
MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS
Steel doors slam shut till morning
Hand waving, a slice of face at a slither of window
I’m going home, going for a pint
And the banged-up boys
In the banging noise
© Deborah Delano- November 2018