Tarot Poetry – The Hanged Man

He Hangs. Me.

Pardon me Sir,

I hate to bother you while you

billow there.

But I must ask,

Is this really what you were all about?

I knew your audacious entrance would be

peppered with tragedy.

We all did.

But of all my self-beasts

You had to kill this one?

The one that shines the brightest,

the one who’s meat made

my eye,

my I.

I never heard tell of your ruthlessness,

that you could cut Achilles heel to the very

white-gleam of bone,

in your florid, carnal surge.

Hanging me in your stead

with inverted, passive visage. 

Published by Erika

I am: Tarot Reader Mom Pagan Wife Writer Reader Cook Astral Surfer Goddess Worshiper Mystic Seer Nature Lover

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