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And Samson said, Let me die with the Philistines.
— Judges 16:30
~
First man I ever saw in irons,
wearing nothing but a pair of scurvy white
long john britches, was Cletis Pratt,
two guards, casually gripping his upper arms,
escorting him back to the population
after two weeks in single cell – same as the hole,
officially termed Administrative Segregation.
They had shaved his head.
He looked like Karl Marx.
He looked the wrath of Nazareth.
His big black beautiful beard
was nappy and clotted with what looked like lint,
but he had gone grey in the hole,
and fat with outrage, eating thorazine and salt peter.
He’d never fooled with weights,
had had a chiseled impossibly perfect onyx body,
where now pounded a gut
and two silver dugs.
Hobbled by a short span of chain
and two shackles, another chain
circling his waist to which his hands buckled,
he couldn’t quite keep up,
though the guards weren’t hurrying him.
Sweating and winded, he bobbed and minced
like a dazed fighter –
too exhausted to lift his heavy hands
to protect himself,
to ask for mercy, to just go down –
his first day back in the gym,
starting to train again
after a jolt in the penitentiary;
needles in North Charlotte;
needles on Hay Street in Fayetteville,
82nd Airborne, all the medals and insignia,
the Purple Hearts, his stunning beret.
Two tours in Vietnam.
Ten fucking lifetimes ago.
~
Author’s note: I’ve spent a lot of time teaching in prisons and writing about them over the years; and, these days, custody and how it erases and demonizes people is coming to roost in palpable and terrifying ways across the U.S. and beyond.

~~~~~
Copyright 2013 Joseph Bathanti. From Concertina (Mercer University Press, 2013).
Joseph Bathanti was North Carolina Poet Laureate (2012-14) and the recipient of the North Carolina Award in Literature, the state’s highest civilian honor. The author of over twenty books, Bathanti is McFarlane Family Distinguished Professor of Interdisciplinary Education at Appalachian State University in Boone, North Carolina, and is the recipient of the Board of Governors Excellence in Teaching Award. He was inducted into the North Carolina Literary Hall of Fame in October of 2024.
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Bathanti’s additional poem Women’s Prison, linked for us in the Related Section below the text of today’s poem, makes a powerful addition to his prison poems. Both are powerful, Women’s Prison is not to be forgotten.
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Thanks for following the trail of crumbs to the palace, Jim.
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Inescapable poetry, the indignity captured so well. Thorazine and salt peter, is that a standard prison diet? Or a prison’s end-game way to avoid a complex solution? I like the physicality of the poem, as Cletis is paraded back from Administrative Segregation. It turns us into curious voyeurs of his plight. Did a light ever burn in him again? Did he regain the strength to rattle his chains?
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Thanks so much, Folks, for taking the time to read this poem and send such thoughtful comments. I appreciate all of you and the work you do – via your poems and teaching and advocacy and every bit of it small and large – to keep the righteous struggle ongoing.
My very best to you and all of yrs.,
Joseph Bathanti
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Joseph, as so often, you combine a grim apprehension of unpleasant realities and a big, soulful heart. Thank you. Cletis’s story, no doubt, is all too common.
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Wow, this one dredged up some heavy memories. Thank you. And thank you, too, for serving on the inside. My first ever writing workshop took place in prison in Tucson and was ran by poet, author, and UofA professor Richard Shelton. I attended three workshops I think, then the planes hit the buildings, every extracurricular was canceled, and I was transferred before they kicked in again, although I did look him up on the outs some years later. See his book, Crossing the Yard, if interested. Going Back to Bisbee is also excellent reading, as is, of course, his poetry.
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Thanks for sharing this, Matt. Richard Shelton was a great man, in my opinion.
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Nathaniel and I have been watching various iterations of Les Miserables, because we love the music and the story. This poem sings with the unfathomable cruelty of our times. Thanks to both poet and publisher.
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O.M.G! I am breathless.
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To say this is powerful does not do it justice. Wow!
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A stunning thing to read this morning. The poem is masterfully fleshed with its subject and something nearly equal to the lived in experience of meeting this man. Magician is what comes to mind of he who wrote this. Poetry at its very best.
VP keeps me full of wonder in this world, only adding to and enriching an already wonderful life.
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Thanks, Sean. One of the great pleasures of publishing VP is showing readers great poets like Joseph.
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