I shall make the words dance
Sing the tunes of the wildest
Sweetest birds that had yet
To be imagined by aesthetes

The reed and string has yet
Not been struck with that note
The voices the sirens are yet
Preparing for the chorus

On the torn folds in my bosom
Hidden in many scrolls when
In suspension they shall be held
Of the holy door when I crossed

To the broken door of beloved
When I hanged my scrolls alone
Alone when my words did hung
In suspension on that door

She says she shall kiss them twice
And wash them with old wine
See me on the door of my beloved
My rendezvous when I am hanging
My poems first to be read there
12/2/2009

Sadiqullah Khan

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-rendezvous-hanged-poem/