On gallows I’ve stood

Awaiting the lever

Perhaps an escape

For one much more clever


The tightening twine

The groaning of lumber

I’m closing my eyes

Approaching my slumber


A crack then a bang

A well needed breath

I pray ne’er again

to be so close to death


“Divine Intervention!”

The preacher cries out

The people protest

But bend to his clout


His hand on my shoulder

As I’m still unsteady

I nod when he asks

“Okay son, you ready?”


I sign my soul over

to powerful hands

so that no more upon

those gallows I’d stand



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