Passing time at city jail, inmates turn poets
On the second anniversary of the city jail’s ME-First class, I sat in a darkened room with a dozen women watching Cadillac Records. A break from their typical sessions dealing with addiction problems, the inmates gasped at key moments and kept a running commentary like giddy school kids during recess.
Though they were clearly enjoying the film, several women jumped up when they noticed superintendent Nancy Leazer and I seated in the back. One brought over a tray of cookies; a special treat in honor of the anniversary. Another inmate was right behind to offer us napkins. A third poured Lipton Green Tea into two paper cups.
But, even with the lights off, sipping tea and watching the movie, I was distracted by the butcher paper all over the walls. Scrawled in markers, there were handmade posters covering nearly every inch of cinder block. Toxic Shame. Power Chart. Looking forward; hope for the future!
My eyes settled on a long block of pink text. It was a poem the women had written about “The 180 Bluez” — a reference to the maximum number of days inmates are sentenced to MCI. A few days later, Leazer sent me another poem, with no title, written by a women serving 180 days on child endangerment.
Check them out after the jump.
