Greenville, Illinois

After the metal detector, there was no pat down. A guard marked my wrist with ultraviolet inkthat shone in blacklight. Since I had clearedthe background check, my books were my identification.The inmates sat in bleachers of the big gymnasiumwhere the sultry air smelled of perspiration and weights.After I read each poem, they snapped their fingersto encourage me to keep going. A few licked ice cream cones.Wearing clean khaki uniforms, they raised their hands politelyto pose rather personal questi...