she cut the rope into 6 days and a frayed edge.
gathered up to not really save the falling
or punish the damned. she said, life is a pond
leave me to my frogs. I laughed, she cried, this
is the fact, i hate you. the shape of the ropes became
a boat, a turtle, a monkey, a god, a telephone, and a noose
I was a frayed edge and wished
to hang with god

screw you, she said, handed me the noose
and showed me it was hours
carefully tied it around my neck, tightly
the other end over the oak where our names
were carved.

she said, if only it was february
the chill would tell you this rope is for life
and she let me god
with a snap and fond little wiggle
in her walk

I saw nothing more.