Hung (Poem taken from Circle Time)
Written by Sam Rawlings on Tuesday the 30th of November 2010
Within the lamp light
Huddled around her and me
And this lonely table,
Humble within tonight's kitchen
Of wood and of no sleep,
Our eyes swell to double their usual size
And words crumble before
They can even begin to stumble from our lips.
The pits of our stomachs have grown sour
From so many hours
But still we continue to feed.
Could picture this scene
Displayed on a wall.
After all we've both paid enough for it;
For the baisse noir lighting
For the violence silent so beautiful between us,
For the slits across our wrists
Sown simply now by its title.
If only this frame wasn't so fragile,
Then maybe one day we
Could have hung it.