Art School

Today is Friday

and I did everything right this week

I followed the program

like I’m a robot, no brain

except when I had to pretend to use

it in class, dumb shit I already learned

Filling out worksheets and taking practice tests

but in my notebook, I drew myself another world

another opening to other places, other dimensions

and Kadon was right

I needed a crew to sit next to me

to be my four corners so that I’m not cornered

There’s Amir with the locs down his back

Quiet like air, like there’s a heavy secret

behind that silence

There’s Smoke who wears that name

like a bulletproof vestI swear

he can see through people

There’s Rahmarley with the braids

that stick up like antennas and

he thinks he could read people’s minds

and Kadon

I get it now

those white boys don’t see me

and I don’t see them

But I get to see her, though

finally

And she comes into the dayroom

glidingholding something

in her arms—a poster board and markers

I see hersmiling

and I sit up in my seat

smooth out my sweatshirt

smooth down my eyebrows

smooth out all my wrinkles

my mistakes, my mean mug

I’m happy to see you here

she says

even though she doesn’t look happy

Her face is serious, like

she means business

even though she’s teaching poetry

My name is Imani Dawson

and I’m a poet, educator

and activist—

I like to call myself

a prison abolitionist

Prison abolitionist?

I ask

Like in slavery?

So you’re here to free us?

Okay, thenSo my name is

Amaland

I don’t like to call myself a slave

but here we fucking are—

And they laugh at me

Unacceptable, Imani says

Let’s try this again

By calling myself a

prison abolitionist

I mean that I’m part of

a movement

that is fighting to abolish

the prison industrial complex

as we know it

And no, Amal

you are not a slave

None of you are

I’m here to help you

remember that

Amal, inmate

is all I say

Who are you, Amal?

What is your truth?

she asks

I look around, no one has their

eyes on meso I shrug

Everybody was

stumped by that question

when I first asked it to the group

It’s okay, Amal

You have time to think about it

What is your truth?

She turns away

and writes on her poster board

with a blue marker

MISTAKES & MISGIVINGS

Take a sheet of paper out

of your notebook and

fold it in half, she says

without looking back at us

On one side you write

“Mistakes,” on the other side

you write “Misgivings”

My page is still blank

I don’t do what she says

This shit is for kindergarten

Too many questions

too many directions

Where’s your work? she asks

I thought we were just gonna write, I say

You are writing, you have to start

somewhere, Amal

I’m not trying to make

origamiI just wanna write

Oh, so you’re a serious writer

Not like essays or stories, but

just the truth

Truth— Well, let me see what you got

Follow the directions and take it

one word at a time— One word at

a time, Amal—

Mistakes and Misgivings

What I want to say:

What does that even mean?

Why can’t we just write?

Why does everything have to have

rulesdirectionsorder?

We’re already trapped in boxes

why can’t we just be free with this?

What I do:

Crumple the paper and walk

out of the dayroom and toward

my door

The officer with the tattoo—

his name is Beale, but I call him

Tattoo

so that I remember—

tells me to get back

to the dayroom, but I don’t move

Where the fuck do you think you’re going?

he hisses

I stand there in front of my door

waiting for him to pull out the keys

He holds his arm in front of me

and I see that tattoo again

   that tattoo again

You go in there, you’ll stay in there

Forty-eight hours minimum

he says, opening the door

and I walk in