Hangin' Joe

Each time I plummet through the trap,
I find that dangling in the night
is not, in fact, agreeable,

so I dance, wrung tight at rope's end,
for a snap of time, sampling the dark,
then simply drop, like an ape from a tree

into a crouch, hands somehow free,
sprung from their cords, fingers flexing.
And straightening as best I can,

with a sore neck and embarrassed bark,
I walk in what I hope may be
a dignified and careless way

across the creaking gallows boards,
past the executioner
in his ludicrous hood of anonymity,

leaning on the upright post,
watching in that way of his,
that almost sympathetic way,

sallow eyes somewhat amused,
head inclined a slight degree,
nodding slowly, knowingly.

~~~~~~~~~~

Douglas Logan