When' Locked In' is Home

When' Locked In' is Home

A key might be somewhere.
The door is locked from the inside,
I am sticky with blood, search for a sharp.
I cry, shiver in damp dark.

There's bodies in here.
I know the putrid smell of death.
Gun shots, screams. I roll under a bed.
I can be quiet: hold my breath like the dead.

Who can the dead be?
Dirty dealer and “do anything” trick?
I didn't shoot.Just glad it ain't me.
Sun comin up, I'll be able to see.

Somebody will be lookin.
I want out; gotta get to Meth Clinic.
Stuck with a body; listenin to it's death clock.
I already know about a jail block.

I crawl around, cold tile, a door;
metallic smell, puke, another body,
a dirty window, I see light
a way out, could be alright?

For a bright minute, I am a free bird.
Green plants, a sunrise, "normal" life.
Maybe the prints won't talk.
Locked doors don't scare me, open ones do.

Been behind a locked door most of my life.
My old man took what he wanted or I suffered.
Fell in love with smack, needle don't beat you.
Granny tole heaven tales, taste of H does too.

Jail gives you Methadone.
bed, dry clothes, food, even a lover.
Better than a mat that says "Home"
But don't mean it.

By Kathie Stehr
2021