He’d seen himself led out into the yard:
Tripping, struggling—dragged beside the guard.
He’d seen his own feet stumble on the stairs.
He’d seen those other two bound in their snares—
Black bags over their heads tied off with rope.
He’d felt the noose choke out his breath—and hope.
He’d heard the hush spread through the crowd as all
Waited for the wink to make them fall.
He’d heard the crack as trap doors opened wide.
He’d seen his body swinging when he died.
He’d heard the gasps and shrieks and chatter grow
As each rope loosed and let the bodies go.
He’d died a hundred deaths before the day
The guard and priest—eyes down—took him away.
