3-21 The Hanged Man

Death came tapping
on the shoulder of the hanged man,
blowing smoke in his eyes,
laughing,
son, he said,
son, he said,
opening
his arms wide,
son, he said,
what if I gave you this?
rising from the ashes of his cigar,
desert soldiers on a pale blue horizon,
roses upon roses of rows,
black with feathers and gold with thread,
roses upon roses of rows,
black with feathers and gold with thread,
blowing in the after-wind,
son, he said,
son, he said,
stamping his boots on the platform,
son, he said,
what if I gave you this?
the soldiers turn to face him grinning,
flashing their bone white teeth,
the drums of their feet,
pounding and pouring sand into sound,
black feathers soaring, gold thread wound,
pounding and pouring sand into sound,
becoming the after-wind,
sand into sound, blowing,
son, he said,
son, he said,
throwing off his cloak,
bowing to the sky,
son, he said,
what if I gave you this?
from his chest, from his bones,
from his hands, he brought,
ripped flesh, and veins,
dripping black as the feather,
a crown of the dust, dirt, and stone,
spun with a weave as thread of gold,
a crown of the dust, dirt, and stone,
harnessing the after-wind, dust, dirt, and stone, blown,
son, he said,
son, he said,
Dad, the hanged man replies,
I am at peace, let me go,
Death hangs the crown on his head,
black with feather, gold with thread,
I am at peace, let me go,
Death fills his ears with the sound,
black as feather, gold as thread,
I am at peace, let me go,
Death fills his arms with the men,
black with feather, gold with thread,
I am at peace,
Death has nothing more to give,
so he rocks him gently,
kissing him on his rattlesnake cheeks,
black in the feather, gold in the thread,
unwinds the rope,
black in the feather, gold in the thread,
let me go.