Interrogation

They asked the easy questions first,

like What is your name?

So I told them,

but they weren’t satisfied.

They wanted a different answer.

Who are you?

I hesitated, then said I didn’t know.

They laughed

and said they would torture me

if I didn’t improve.

Do you know why you are here?

Because I did something wrong,

I said. They asked me

what that was. I answered

it was because I didn’t know.

This time, they didn’t laugh.

I was more afraid

and began to tremble. You are

a poet? they asked.

I told them I didn’t know

what the word meant.

They grew angry. Suddenly,

I was calm. Their hands opened

and closed on the table.

What are your poems worth?

As much as your questions,

I replied.

Their eyes narrowed:

they would detach the skin

from my body, write

along its insides.

Do you know what we can do

to you? Yes,

I answered. And didn’t laugh.