The Hangman

The Hangman

Eons ago and far away
my poetic words stood trial.
Now, feet firmly positioned
in courageous stance,
I clutch an enveloped verdict.
With one deep breath I read aloud
the dreaded message within,
and feel a flush puddle in my cheeks
as the noose tightens around my neck.
"Do not despair Miss,"
says the hangman with a wink
as the trap door falls away from my feet,
"I've heard it said, and it could be true,
all the really good poets are dead."