Barred

by Rochelle Cunningham
© 2008


They took you away
In handcuffs today
In the boat,
On the water,
Under a reservoir sky.

I get in my car
And buckle down
Through three
County lines,
Foothills and fog

Coming down
Old Freezout Way—
All that space
so much
Space

I reached for your hand
Prevention
Shares a pillow
Asleep
in a room

You once called out ‘Next to,’
And you
In your cold cell
Call
collect

To say that you’re fine.
Our family lies
Through a telephone line.
So this
is home for awhile?
Really?

When I laugh
I hear – in my head first, the reverb,
The long hour fielding shadows,
Walking
the worn path

Of old carpet. I was with you today
And hardly--
Alone in my head,
in a car port,

In hallway instead, awaiting
The next time we embrace

In distant cold.
Detached
and bound
through strangling wire