The Hanged Man

 She needed a cave, my arms

 are wings.

 She sought words, I continued

 to scream.

 She asked for quiet, a second

 chance.

 I wanted a battle, a shot at

 redemption.

 We wiggled about in her black silk

 sheets, cacooning ourselves with flesh,

 hiding from days, pretending nights

 rolled into each other like waves,

 love leaking like blood; nightmares, dreams

 and regret strung up like Christmas lights -

 so the whole world could see what was coming

 everyone except me, anger

 makes us blind, deaf to all

 but inner voices, desperate

 for another round when the bell

 has rung, the door slammed shut

 and without ever knowing how

 it came about I sat beside the table,

 telephone in hand, dial tone,

 the New Greek oracle, signalling

 a finality the heart understood far

 more than the mind ever would.