Hanged
My arms are like a skeleton’s arms
My legs are thin metal, the width of a key
My mind remains locked, my body a block
A sapling that never grew into a tree
A ribcage of plastic, a light unfantastic
Eyes fading daily with useless use, limbs loose
But locked still, jaw clenched, a windmill
Turning inside my brain, picturing the noose
Or fantasising with no joy or current plan
An image imprinted, enlarged, entangled
A body found in a room, cheerful gloom
Lights off – no burial, forever dangled.