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Pokey The old man in the cell next to mine Was exceedingly fond of telling me that “Even a clock that does not work Is right twice a day”, as if trying to defend His own reliability even before anyone Even questioned it. The poisonous lady in the bars across me Always hissed her life motto at night, “Use your enemy's hand to catch a snake”, And I could almost hear the resonating rattle Of a pale, earth-coloured serpent Every time she did so. The teenager to my left would always exclaim That “The best armour is to stay out of range”, And this never failed to make me laugh Inside my head because he wouldn’t have Ended up with us if he had been so clever In the first place. The prison guard fancied himself a didactic, So we heard his voice every evening at Six o’clock, in that tone of mockery, repeating daily The phrase, “If your head is wax, Don't walk in the sun”, and how we wished We could punch him. Perhaps the most memorable one, was that winter The whole place was burning down, and a Little boy, whose voice I had never heard in All my time at that horrible residence, quietly remarked The words of: “Since the house is on fire, Let us warm ourselves.” | 
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