The Hang-Man's Lover Poem by Robert Rorabeck

The hang-man’s lover mopes
Around after class,
Trying to figure out the word
To get him down,
Where he sways on the branch
And little bits of sun:
She’s the only one who thinks
To see him there,
Decorating so high up the
Campus landscaping,
Amidst the red bricks,
She bites her lip-
She’s run out of chances
As he stops breathing,
The wind tossing him around
His reflection caracoles in
The third floor window,
Exhibiting for the Spanish Class:
She stares at his dirty souls,
The farting wind chime
Spinning in the sky-
She has the itch to go to her room
And f*ck someone
Then study Latin,
She’d prefer him,
But he is so high up and not around,
She figures she’ll just do anyone.