The Price To Know (Gitmo) Poem by Deliot Taylor

I have an itch in my soul
That I can’t scratch
That I can’t localize nor reach
Precision in self awareness muted by
Mediaeval techniques, lies and
wordsmithing
On my behalf
Water boarding (and more)
Staining our collective soul like an iodine wash
Meant to disinfect and cleanse
But having the opposite effect
I ask my constitution
Is there anything worth knowing
that you would sell your soul for?

April 4,2009