POETRY

CONCURRENT TIME
By Lydia Maniz

Dedicated to my husband, Robert Maniz

21 years – only 12 more to go.

12-23-10

Doing time in a prison with no walls.

Marking days till the ink runs out.

Building walls in front of doors

and breaking windows just to breathe.

Trying not to lose myself

amongst fiends in these cutthroat streets

Crank games are to mind trips

as my so-called “freedom” is to his bars.

“I’m innocent!” I scream,

but it remains unheard,

drowned out by the sound

of the crimes listed under his name.

I could run, but I‘d never escape.

The yearning for him never fades.

I have no choice.

We both knew what we’d lose

as he pulled the trigger

and I said, “I do.”

This is our time

– never actually shared.

Both feeling the cold,

two different sides of the same glass.

Watching clocks that run too slow

as life around us skips not one beat.

Is it harder to touch but never feel,

or to have known, but never seen?

Vigilant and composed,

blue denim animal caged on the yard.

Self-medicated euphorias.

Roaming the streets just to get out the house.

He’ll watch for mail;

I’ll do the same.

He programs; I hustle.

Survival mode, the constant mind frame.

We’ll do what we want

and never look back

parallel universes

with no love or regret.

Politics and egos

added to the state’s rules.

Judgment and temptation

mixed into an already shady game.

Both feeling the anger

that builds from helpless emotion.

Biting back the constant loneliness

Quietly provoking us to the edge.

Tiers and tiers of like-minded peers

and I, in a room full of socials.

But TIME is done in the mind

and our only thought is of each other.

All time is hard time,

though the years fly by with ease.

Hurrying up just to wait.

Pressing play and pause all at once

the life of a convict’s wife,

a hard line unacknowledged but walked.

Remember convict as you do your time in prison

your wife does hers on the other side.

And though

I’ll never walk a day in your shoes

you’ll never know

what it was like waiting for you.

IN THE MAIL
By Jason Scardino

Today I got a letter from her

But I didn’t read the words

I read what was written in between

Which left me most disturbed

She spoke of how she missed me

And of a love that remained steadfast

Promised that she’d been faithful

All these days gone past

Handled my affairs and such

My possessions packed and stored

Said there was nothing for me to worry at

This girl that I adored

Wish you were here, wish you were near

Wish you were coming home!

Wish I wasn’t facing

This cold, cold world alone!

And then the letter ended

Before it had began

Before she had informed me

That she’d found another man.