She goes to Mayse
Down First Term Road
And cuts down the one
Hanging from Deepest Root
There were two there last week
The week before five
Things must be cooling down
Because today there’s just one
And he looks like he went quick
She cuts him down
Takes him to Chairstead
A few miles away
And collects the sixteen gold
And two that was owed to her
From the previous week
Chairstead keeps coming up short
And she’s happy to take the IOU’s
But only because
What choice does she have?
Her pig is waiting for her at home
And she knows pretty soon
It’ll need to butchered
But she made the mistake of calling it Rafter
And now she can’t help but think of it
Like a pet
Even though she’ll be starving
When the first snow arrives
And the pig should be slaughtered
Long before that
If she’s going to come up
With a meal plan
She takes a shortcut
The way that’s overgrown now
With weeds and cattle bugs
Only because she doesn’t want to see
That fucking pig
Smiling at her
Any sooner than she has to
The Long Legs by her house
Has branches stretching out
Over the powerlines
And the telephone poles
It looks like the three
Burst and froze
In a moment
She stops a hundred feet away
Wondering if her eyes
Are playing tricks on her
From every branch
Every limb
Are dozens
And dozens
Of ropes to cut
And at the end of each rope…
Her knife isn’t sharp enough
She knows that already
It’s fine for cutting down
What the stragglers leave her
When they hang a handful
From the the Deepest Root
But whoever did this
Might never have intended
To see these ropes
Be cut
Some are hung with two ropes
Some have ropes tied
To every appendage
Fingers and toes
She fingers the knife
At her side
Wondering if the hangers
Are still nearby
Itching to put another body
In the tree
But her ear is keen
And the road is quiet
The tragedy is a thing of the past
And the historians
Are long gone
Leaving her
To do the cutting
Once upon a time
She cut a man down
Who hurled a raw insult
At the face
Of an oppressor
He had a blue shirt
And teeth were lined
For nothing but smiles
Nothing but pleasantries
She never knew the man
But she imagined dancing with him
Down all the roads
Past all the houses
Ready for fire
And crackling wood
Trees cut down
By axes
Wielded by men
Without names
She touches her knife
And wonders
Which rope
Will split first
Which of them
Will get the last
Bit of sharpness
From her blade
Who will come down
First
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