Ghost Prisoner

This prisoner and other “ghost detainees” were hidden largely to prevent the International Committee of the Red Cross from monitoring their treatment and conditions, officials said. —“Rumsfeld Ordered Iraqi Suspect Held as ‘Ghost’ Prisoner,” San Francisco Chronicle , June 17, 2004 The ghost prisoner, a murderer, wishes he was invisible, sheer air, already dead. His narrow bed washes him away to dream escape through holy gaps that open in the grin of his small son. Lost teeth offer him a freedom so absurd he wakes and laughs. No one hears the ghost prisoner. Whether he groans or bears stoically what instruments we’ve paid to play this march toward a freedom so absurd we wake and silently shake our heads. We do not speak ill of the dead. The ghost prisoner, still murderer, wishes he was visible, fiery air, rallying the dead. His narrow cell just the place for prayer. Holy, holy, a ghost’s revenge pushed through gaps in his own gashed mouth, a curse so absurd, he wakes to its howl. No one says his name, his crimes, how many jolts it took to resurrect him as a betrayer of insurrection, paying for freedom’s ring. We do not want to know what it took. We’d rather not speak the dead ill. We do not want to know what it took to make him wish he were dead still.