The Ritual
by Charles Schmid

I stand below the gun tower
in the rain. Other prisoners line up.
behind me. They want to return
the their cells. "Not yet, " I tell them

"Not until the bastard
stops calling me by a number."

It is late and because visitors are present
the tower guard grudgingly calls
my name.
I walk through the gate
as if I were almost human.

Later in the darkness
he takes me from my cell.

He begins the ritual
of unconsciousness. I hear the thud
of clubs falling on flesh. When I call
out my number the guards walk
away. I shout at them.

"My name, goddam you, call me
by my name."

and they return