Here’s a shiny silver space blanket,
the wire monkey replacement for
whatever comfort you once knew.
And here’s the thin institutional pallet
that might separate you from the hard concrete floor
by a generous inch or two.
Close your eyes and sleep, my dear.
Avoid staring through the menacing chainlink
at strangers not your mother
and officers not your father.
Hum a familiar lullaby,
cradle it there in your chest,
and rest as well as they let you.
Sleep to dream
of something less sinister,
of people less cruel,
snatching, perhaps, a few moments
of peace during what can only be described
as torment, torture,
a hell without humanity.
Who knew the radiant North Star
would bring you to this cold place?
your manger looks so strange.