The knot in the noose was tied years ago.
It had been hanging behind
a closed door in their minds.
Long before you drew breath
the haughty circle waited,
gaping like a flesh wound
in open mouthed mockery
at the safety you believed was yours
by virtue of living now.
But the knot was tied and ready
and the circle waited, languid
until the day it could tighten
around your unwitting flesh.
It’s purpose finally fulfilled.
Every gasp of yours
an echo of last breaths
sobbed into the leaves of trees
that bend like grieving mothers
beneath the weight of fruit too heavy to bear.
You couldn’t have known
while you were busy with thoughts of tomorrow
that the knot was tied and ready
on the noose of times flat circle
Ready to catch you
to claim you
to drag you into the past.
Vino and Grievances 