Sisyphus in Prison

No tension, nothing to press against.
Only the body's strength defeating itself;
the grey smell that inhabits breath, clothes;
a leaden weight in loins and belly.
Towers of stone; coloured television
showing the world out there — big as
my toe-nail … So what do I see?
Politics as grand larceny.
Secret plans for mass slaughter
handled like religious texts.
Poisons leak into the unborn,
claiming an eye, a heart.
They tell us we are the poison
and must be locked up here —
would bury or incinerate us
were we not lost in their unconscious.
In the middle of the night, pain
raw and insistent as a kidney stone
keeps me awake. Time
lays over me its smothering blanket.
Nemesis is a sour sexual fantasy
played over and over,
her body nebulous, her smile
vacuous, framing sharp teeth.