Hanging tree

I passed your way before,

insidious, tarnishing the sleeping ochre sun 

awaiting darkness to settle in the crevasses of your rheumatoid knots.
You sang no hymnals, worshipping only to your own blackened hues

Gnarled, predatory tainting the distant bird lullaby with an echo of injustice,

branches swaying in the melody of remnants and echoes.

How many lifted their skirts at your hollow majesty, 

after judgment in torments, awaiting abatement, redemption for physik.
I passed your way before,

heard your whispers 

devoured your sighs

crooked my neck in fare thee well.