“Faux” by Stephen Jackson

Before we scatter
from our city cells

Those cruel hours –
beauty, a badge of honor

Before we high-step it
out to the main drag

to parade ourselves
in lieu of pride, let’s

remember, in heart,
the bluest moments

The diamond cut of
truth, that tomorrow

– when the cunt in
all of them returns

You’re on your own
again, behind bars


Stephen Jackson has not been previously published. He lives in Eugene, Oregon.