A Hanging
The question is always
how much rope to give.
Too short and they dangle
blue faced, eyes popping;
better long, they said, quicker-
solid sound of necks snapping.
The sound that woke us
too groggily, absently, fretfully
having dreamt of the rope;
how quietly it weaves
until we are all swinging.
The question is always
how much rope to give.
Too short and they dangle
blue faced, eyes popping;
better long, they said, quicker-
solid sound of necks snapping.
The sound that woke us
too groggily, absently, fretfully
having dreamt of the rope;
how quietly it weaves
until we are all swinging.