a
poem by
Kirby Wright
> bio
The
General
The
general visits me today in prison. He tells me that, because he neglects
his wife, it is easy for temptation. He says he found the boy I love
and drove him to his villa. He holds a video and says everything was
recorded through secret cameras. Muy bien, he goes, they do many positions.
He threatens to play it on the wall and I begin to cry. The general
says if I don’t learn to love him, the boy dies. After he leaves,
I dig out a rock from the dirt of my cell and sharpen it against the
manacles.
A day passes. I pray for the general to die. The only thing keeping
me alive is believing the boy still loves me. I hear the general’s
boots marching up the corridor. My fingers test the rock’s razored
edge.
