Hangers Poem by Kevin John Hart

'Two boys are hanging there,' my sister said,
Ind'Two dirty ones like you.'
'Our father strung 'em up last week,' she said,
Ind'By now they'll be quite blue.'

My parents' room had curtains always drawn
IndAnd shadows flush with ears,
The wardrobe lived inside that darker world
IndWith shouts and cries and tears.

That wardrobe creaked across my dreams all week
IndIt knew where bad boys are,
Its door would spring full open in my face
IndAnd fling a smell of tar.

And then one day, when everyone was out,
IndI — slowly — turned the lock:
I saw the dead boys in my winter coats
IndAnd ran right round the block.