Home > 11/9/09 Marie Ponsot Reads an Untitled Poem by Scott Walt   Marie Ponsot reads Scott Walt's untitled poem, winner of an honorable mention for poetry in PEN's 2004 Prison Writing Contest, at the 2009 event Breakout: Voices from Inside. Read the poem below. Listen to audio of the reading Untitled I wrestle with my morning coffee shuffling pages in a trancelike state of newspaper consciousness. Bomblast leaves fourteen dead in Mombasa: or was in eighteen? two Isrealis for sure. The Kenyans exist in a faded one-liner. West of Mecca, and farther still across the Atlantic you can hear the war drums, and the dazzling voices beneath your feet; forcing the world to be free. Hatred goes down as history in a blood trail on long horizontal pages. It didn't spring up yesterday. The evidence, and moralistic intentions shine bright on the myriad headstones Nothing changes down-stream. Nothing with man changes. Behind a table of silk suits, bi-focals, and liberalism (with six seats to spare) every word will be revised, misspelt, or forgotten as required. It's an awkward thing this preoccupation with killing. Somewhere, and everywhere along the border Paisas dream of gold Risking their essence for a better life— in America. Only to realize their fate is preordained to the fields, the prisons or, death in the desert heat: al fin libertad! I read of a Texas girl huddled in a corner, in the darkness of a locked closet. Surrounded by food crumbs, excrement, and the overwhelming pungency of urine. She'd been there for months, or eternity. Perhaps never. She was eight. Twenty-five pounds. Minus the innocence. Plus or minus the scars. Meanwhile, my coffee goes cold, along with the general human condition.   Home | Site Map | Copyright / Privacy Policy | Contact Us © 2004-2012 PEN American Center. All rights reserved.