Push back against the hands
arranging the conditions
for movement (meaning barely any),
the narrow confines of a cell
stripped down to minimum
furnishings: cot with creaky
springs, mattress streaked
with sepia stains, cracked
washbowl in the corner. Kick
and scream when they send
the trumped-up summons,
as outside, someone prepares
the spit and starts the fire.
Recall every subterfuge and tactic
for stalling, every scanned
memory of some kind of hinge
or chink in the armor. Yes
your stamina can go beyond
a thousand and one nights. You
can also drive the tip of any sharp
point at hand into the first
blur that hesitates or wavers.