June 21, 2020 by The Citron Review
by Connie Wasem Scott
It’s clear he’ll never be happy. He’s
strung up by an ankle
and hangs from a tree.
Shall I read into this?
Project onto the tree
the role of the father,
the hands that strung him up
first? See how he tucks
his hands behind his back.
What is he hiding? This card’s
inverted, it appears the man is
standing on one leg, the other
crooked at the knee like he’s
relaxed, but he’s never at ease, he’s pulled
down by forces he can’t see. See
that band of yellow light that
arcs round his head? Don’t be fooled.
That’s no aura of a saint.
Connie Wasem Scott lives in Spokane, WA, where she teaches the range of English classes at Spokane Falls Community College and enjoys the great outdoors with her Aussie-American husband. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Streetlight, The Shore, Cathexis Northwest, Minerva Rising, Sycamore Review, RHINO, and elsewhere.