Away from piers the waters pity,
Away from mob-marauded streets
The last of the police retreats.
The prison empties to the city.
Senescent generals see no end
As their pubescent armies war.

Chat with an ex-con friend online.
She’s struggling with life outside:
a mother who argues, threatens,
cajoles; seeing her kids;
talking to lawyers; working a job;
avoiding a chest of drawers
in front of the opium door.