I.

Scene:  Death Row – a Christmas
tree, ornamented, tinseled, well-lit,
complete with phony gifts beneath. 
It crowds one
half of the hall as we shoulder on
around en route from and to chow.
Most guys walk on by – eyes ahead;
but some press
close to thump a tiny colored light
bulb hard enough to
                                                darken it,
pinch needles into zees, or brazenly
slap the crap out of plastic dec-
orations, as if to say, “I’m hurting
you because you’re hurting me.”
Still other men oohhh and aahhh,
like little kids, eyeing mint-condition
memories that are kept shelved
except for special occasions.  Never-
theless, the Lord is my shepherd-
                                                I shall not want.

II.

The other day an officer stood
there peering deep
into its depth of plastic branches,
then grabbed it roughly, angrily
even, and shook-shook-shook
the fuck out of it, rattling off a
noisy mess of decorations.  “Nope,
Sarge, nothing!” he hollered up
the hall, his voice rolling over
scattered ornaments and turning
a sharp corner to enter the office,
from where a faint, unconcerned
reply returned:  “Okay.”  The officer
                                                scanned
the wreckage.  Then looked at us
and shrugged.  He goosestepped back
back to the office.  We rebuilt our tree.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR.  George Wilkerson lives on Death Row. He is a talented writer, always keeping us on our toes. He is an occasional contributor to WITS, a co-author of Crimson Letters, an eye-opening book released in 2020, sharing the voices of those living on North Carolina’s Death Row, and his writing can be found on several other platforms. I’m happy to say, he is also the third place winner in WITS’ final writing contest of 2020.

Mr. Wilkerson can be contacted at:
George T. Wilkerson #0900281
4285 Mail Service Center
Raleigh, NC 27699-4285