HMP New Year’s Eve
In the lead up to Christmas
being a vegan prisoner
had its own rewards
one of which was the fact
that my weekly bag of raisins
was deemed desirable
by several prison brewers
Consequently I had shares
in several piss-bucket breweries
which weren’t particularly subtle
the stink of baker’s yeast
(purloined from the kitchen)
emanating around the wing like a airborne infection
A rumour went around
that the screws would turn a blind nose
to our fermented shenanigans
as long as there was no violence
and it was all drunk up by New Year’s Day
And whilst this rumour
was seriously questioned
by all who received and passed it on
the possibly imaginary pact
was upheld by all sides
which meant that
on the cusp of midnight
of the final day of the year
I found myself standing in my cell
with a blue plastic mug
of raisin-infused
seven-day-old vintage prison hooch
wondering how prisoners celebrated
or not
the occasion
I checked my watch
Ten
Nine
and then it began
Eight
Seven
first a few kicks
Six
quickly rising
Five
and I found myself joining in
Four
heel first
Three
Thwang!
Two
Thwang!
and now the roaring thunder of a hundred cell doors
being kicked with frustration and fury
and disobedient joy
resounded through those prison walls
ringing out our hopes and fears
ringing in a brand year
In the lead up to Christmas
being a vegan prisoner
had its own rewards
one of which was the fact
that my weekly bag of raisins
was deemed desirable
by several prison brewers
Consequently I had shares
in several piss-bucket breweries
which weren’t particularly subtle
the stink of baker’s yeast
(purloined from the kitchen)
emanating around the wing like a airborne infection
A rumour went around
that the screws would turn a blind nose
to our fermented shenanigans
as long as there was no violence
and it was all drunk up by New Year’s Day
And whilst this rumour
was seriously questioned
by all who received and passed it on
the possibly imaginary pact
was upheld by all sides
which meant that
on the cusp of midnight
of the final day of the year
I found myself standing in my cell
with a blue plastic mug
of raisin-infused
seven-day-old vintage prison hooch
wondering how prisoners celebrated
or not
the occasion
I checked my watch
Ten
Nine
and then it began
Eight
Seven
first a few kicks
Six
quickly rising
Five
and I found myself joining in
Four
heel first
Three
Thwang!
Two
Thwang!
and now the roaring thunder of a hundred cell doors
being kicked with frustration and fury
and disobedient joy
resounded through those prison walls
ringing out our hopes and fears
ringing in a brand year