“Hanged” by Caira Lee


I will hang from a tree
Like moss
Drying slung over a solid branch.
Thin slices of tension adorn his brow
And headaches return like favorite uncles from prison
Can it be?
Embrace his warm skeleton
Worn and doomed
ashes,
Like Pompeii.
Ashes,
Like Jim Crow
We all
fall
down.

As I poke the skin between my ribs to remind me I am alive.