A software change in my prison-issued electronic tablet ate up my drafts and eliminated basic writing tools. That may sound minor, but try sending a poem to your kid without line breaks.

Doing time during a pandemic can mean fighting for your turn to wash your body or call your family. Inside one man’s battle with an inaudible loudspeaker, weary guards and a dysfunctional process.

“I tell my husband to keep my son in another room, while I put my uniform in a trash bag and take a long shower.”

“If you move the wrong way—ticket. You look the wrong way—ticket. Breathe—ticket.”

“Panic ensued as everyone braced for the inevitable attack.”