Winners
of the 2017 Woman's Press Club of Indiana Prison Writing Contest
First
place:
Down
on Sand Creek
by
L.D. Smith
Two
words scrawled on a paper plate,
Taped
on my front door, said, "GONE FISHIN'!"
I
got a weekend date with Mother Nature.
I
can't tuen 'er down 'cause the treat's on her.
Only
my close friends know where I'm goin'.
It's
my home away from home in the palm of God's hand.
I
pitched my tent on a soft sandbar.
Then
I grabbed me a few dry leaves and twigs.
I
struck a kitchen match on the seat of my britches.
Then
I lit my kindlin' and added more wood.
Night
was creepin' in like a hungry coyote.
As
my fire burned bright on the edge of the creek,
The
flames were a-dancin' like a band of demons
Celebratin'
the capture of another lost soul.
I
grabbed my fishin' pole and a box of night crawlers.
Then
I baited my hook and I give it a sling.
I
reached in my cooler and pulled out a cold one.
Then
I kicked back and waited for a big ol' cat.
Way
down stream I could hear the clatter
Of
the board floor bridge as a car crossed over.
Other
than that, the only sounds that I heard
Was
the breeze in the trees and a trilling whippoorwill.
Every
now and then, I could hear the random rustle
Of
a critter in the bushes or a hoot owl hootin'.
Along
toward midnight I felt my pole jerkin'.
So
I gave it a yank and caught a seven-pound cat.
They
musta been hungry 'cause I caught five more.
I
throwed 'em in my cooler, then I called it a night.
I
believe the most peaceful thing a person can do
Is
to sleep outside underneath the stars.
Morning
came early and the trees were alive
With
the birds celebratin' a brand-new day.
I
cleaned me a catfish and greased up my skillet.
Then
I made me a fresh pot of camping coffee.
I
gave the Lord thanks for blessin' me so.
Then
I had me a breakfast that was for a king.
I
put out my fire and packed up my gear
And
as bad as I hated to, I said goodbye.
I
hope someday when I leave this world
I'll
be right here in my favorite place.
Sittin'
on the bank of my dear ol' friend;
Sittin'
on the bank og Big Sand Creek.
L.D.
Smith is an inmate at the Indiana State Prison, in Michigan City.
***
Second
place:
I
AM
by
Jason Green
I
am,
a
hybrid of Dr. King's Dream
and
the 5 Elements of Hip Hop-
Exemplified.
I
am,
every
displaced, inner-city, poor Black person-
Gentrified;
every
East Chicago Calumet Houseing Complex resident-
Marginalized.
I
am,
my
triple great-grandfather on the Underground Railroad
in
1845.
I
am,
the
courage it took for him to run to Ontario-
Personified.
I
am,
a
modern day Nat Turner-
Vilified.
I
am,
Mamie
Till, the first time she saw her son Emmitt's tortured body
Horrified.
I
am,
a
product of Intelligent Design;
created
in His image-
Glorified.
I
am,
the
epitome of soul,
notice
the manifestation of natural swwag in my stride.
It's
in my DNA-
Magnified.
I
am,
the
blood, sweat
and tears
My ancestors cried
amplified 1,000 times.
I am,
BLACK
HISTORY
Samuel
C. Beacham is an inmate at Chain O'Lakes Correctional Facility,
in Albion, Indiana.
***
Third
place:
... Devouring
…
by
Samuel C. Beacham
I
am waiting to devour you.
I
am already under your bed, in your bed,
under
your sheets, in your head.
…
Devouring …
Moving,
stepping in your steps, inside your steps,
in
your shoes, in your feet.
Trickling
into your mind slowly, slowly reassuring.
While
my hands are on your controls.
…
Devouring …
I
spin golden lies before your eyes,
And
use magicians’ tricks to fool your wits.
You’ll
never be what you should be as long as I am who I am.
…
Devouring …
Jittering
sweats, roots digging deeper
I
am in control, you are just a sleeper.
Even
trade. I’ll always deal myself the ace of spades.
Bottoms
up, head down. You must like getting fucked around.
You’ve
got the pills. My name’s addiction …
And
I will forger be …
Devouring
Samuel
C. Beacham is an inmate at Chain O'Lakes Correctional Facility,
in Albion, Indiana.