Hangman

I leave them hanging, 

nothing to say.

An inattentive friend,

nothing to do 

with them. 

Why not then

erase limbs, body, head 

—and scaffolding. 

No more games.

I wish I may, I wish I might

But can’t, truths 

aren’t welcome. So I don’t answer 

texts, return calls, and I leave 

them on the gallows,

with nothing to say.

Whither Are We Drifting?

From my bedroom window I see 

a poplar tree in the stronghold of a

thick, brown vine spiraling up its trunk.

I pour another ounce of brandy into my 

morning cup of coffee, and wonder if 

the tree is fine with a slow demise, too.  

BIO: David Cranmer is the editor of the BEAT to a PULP webzine and whose own body of work has appeared in such diverse publications as The Five-Two: Crime Poetry Weekly, Needle: A Magazine of Noir, LitReactor, Macmillan’s Criminal Element, and Chicken Soup for the Soul. Under the pen name Edward A. Grainger he created the Cash Laramie western series. He’s a dedicated Whovian who enjoys jazz and backgammon. He can be found in scenic upstate New York where he lives with his wife and daughter.