Literary Yard

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Poem: How is the View from Prison?

By: Ryan Quinn Flanagan


archetypal gag reflex
300 years away
the pail under the sink is growing mouldy
and impatient
fussy as a petulant child
the handle broken

how is the view from prison?
do they read your mail?
smuggle a few letters home to the wife
for a laugh?

the sex here is very bad.
people wrap themselves up in edible plastic
and fumble around in the dark
asking: is this good for you?

there are automobiles
but they only go as fast as you drive them.
there is petrol but almost no one can afford it.

the food is good though,
a glass of fresh squeezed OJ every morning.
does your son still snort like he is a horse?
hardly grounds for the glue factory to terminate him.


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