According to Thomas
William Coleman
July 1, 1999
Doubtless a trick, of course. I see that now.
That day on the hill—light failing—I half-believed
he would break free, the iron and wood dissolving
like showmen's props. He clearly knew such a marvel
would be too much, and we would have died in his place.
Instead, he let the curtain fall completely.
Then, he slipped from view. Still, when he reemerged,
a man who'd met and shackled death, I turned away.
I feared his love that much. What is more? He held
my hand to the hollow places, where we could meet.
I felt his pulse and pull, and turned again to face
him in the flesh. And the trick? He must have known
I'd never accept such a return, so he let me go,
turn my back. When I found him again, it was I
who had been dead, remembered, only now redeemed.
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