sits in the sweaty noire
of her one-bunk Hilton
oblivious to the cackles
and catcalls
of the other prisoners,

wearing a velvet dress
instead of the standard-issue
orange jumpsuit,
as if this will be a night
of suicide or escape.

Her tricep jiggles
when she begins to play
a melody
that causes even the captain
of the guard to drop
his nightstick mid-beating
and fall to his knees
and weep at its humanity.