The grate above my head lets in the sunlight
Lets in the drippings from the gutter
While at intervals some unseen agent
Hoses down my cell
Upon which occasion I rejoice
Until the realization again befalls me
That lacking drainage
The floor will retain the residue
In its fetid entirety
Slop orts and imports

I say my cell not as ownership
But only as relation to a space
That excludes all but the solitary