J. Allyn Rosser
Letters from State Pen. Inmate
Hello, Mona. What kind of woman are you?
We have directories from everywhere,
But my hands opened yours. I picked you.
Your name when I whisper it trembles like dew
On flowers I can never see from here.
Hello, Susan. What kind of woman are you?
Would you answer a letter from out of the blue?
I'm tossing my folded-up heart in the air,
Into your delicate hands. I picked you,
Undine, because your city windows too
Have bars – for fear of men like me! We share
This, Jane; but how kind a woman are you
To fling a soul whose only hope is you
Back at these prison walls – bars he could bear
With one line from your hand. I picked you,
Jane, because that's my mother's name. It's true
I was that man you fear, but now, I swear...
Dear Helen, what kind of woman are you?
I'm in your hands. You know why I picked you.