Chair

Let's workshop this poem about a man who, despite regretting his suicidal hanging, finds solace in the misinterpretation that at least he will be proving his wife wrong about only making empty threats

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Chair 

The kill chair tips
away and you claw
at the belt, needing 
the ruckus to draw
your wife—but

you know she knows
what at least this 
will convince her,
so you tell yourself
at last, 

she is wrong about:
that your threats
are plain bullshit
(the flailing
proving her right).

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