Angels Drip Crimson Poem by Rose James

The rope hangs on the tree
Swinging gently
A child smiles inside its knots
Liberation swinging towards the heavens,
Only this time she won’t come down
She’s already fallen
Maybe before she didn't realise
She was never alone
Thousands of red lines appeared at night
She wasn't the only one
And maybe she didn't realise
But this night a few other children
Tied the rope
Cut both wrists
Drank something that was put on the highest shelf
Disappeared under the water
So maybe she never realised
And maybe you never will
The angels all drip crimson