Like a midnight thief,
he waits for darkness
to permeate until
all sounds have evaporated
under the grey moon.
Joyful, almost gleeful,
he eyes the iron’s electrical cord,
his rope, appropriately black,
a cheap drugstore item
that will do the job at hand.
He cuts the length he needs
with a chef’s sharpened knife,
whooshing through it
like a samurai sword.
Not too long and not too short.
He has already found his branch;
the sturdy, wooden, shower curtain rod.
More towards the left, he reasons,
to ensure more strength.
Then, the rest of this thieving act
should be straightforward.
Two knots, one above the other;
an amateur’s knot for sure
but, what the heck, an amateur’s life
he has led. Then, feed the end through,
tightening. Test and retest,
he reminds himself,
as only one outcome will do.
His head pushes through
the darkness as had
happened once before, long ago.
It begins to feel more like a beginning
where most things always seem to end.