The Hanging Tree

A Poem by Carlton Carr

I have touched the hanging tree
and felt the cruel and roughened bark
scratch my wrist
the rope around my throat
threatens to pull me down
and drown me in the bliss
of my forgetful way

I walk into the rooms of my past
and forget why I am there
I gather the messages that I have left
scattered on the time worn floors
and carry them gently
as though they are abandoned children
into my day

Sunrise finds me counting moments
sifting through today's images
trying desperately to decide
what to keep
and what to throw away