Guilty by Charles Kell

Left again. Four words
on the wall in red.
My name said through

the speaker. Heard once,
written there for all to see.
Kept the white candle

burning for me. Kept
hope through thin dust
sprinkled in envelopes.

Knew it would come back.
Tomorrow one hundred
away. Tonight the light

from the barbed wire
fence—don’t wake
me—blinds. Here

is the last note written
for you. Penciled blue,
dear reader, under

the rusted cot springs. Echo.

© 2016 Charles Kell

 

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Bio:

Charles Kell is a PhD student at The University of Rhode Island and editor of The Ocean State Review. His poetry and fiction have appeared in The New Orleans Review, The Saint Ann’s Review, and elsewhere. He teaches in Rhode Island and Connecticut.

 

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