The Gifting

So here we are inside HMP Brixton.
The mood brighter than usual.
New spring hot sun diffuses mustard
through dust thick classroom windows.
 
Some of the lads are all Ramadaned up.
Hungry, twitchy, paper and pen ready.
The author and I go through routines.
Our room works hard, and all lies rise.
 
The bright boy from outside Galway.
His fake Scottish currency caught out
on the strange streets of Kentish Town.
Never seen London before. A rose red bus
 
or even a gifted book – a dedication of a name.
His baby face gapes open, happiness to kindness.
Then the Ramadan boys rock chairs in anticipation
of thinning prayers. Of time dated in margins.