One on. B Wing





One On. B Wing



First the smells
human smells
and piss and disinfectant
mixed with the rank
odours of steamed food
and ablutions.
Then the noise
clanging and banging
and jangling of keys
and echoes of
ringing round the eaves.
The circle
polished-mirror like
wings spoked out
the cacophony of
unlock and the din
of sparbled boots
across the floor.
A world of
half sheets
board papers-requests
bullies and creeps
of fear and dread
and an overwhelming
foreboding of
torment ahead.

Robert Niblock


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