The execution
Alden Nowlan

On the night of the execution
a man at the door
mistook me for the coroner.
'Press' I said.

But he didn't understand. He led me
into the wrong room
where the sheriff greeted me:
'you're late, Padre.'

'You're wrong,' I told him I'm press.'
'Yes of course, Reverend press.'
We went down a stairway.

Ah, Mr. Ellis,' said the Deputy.
'Press!' I shouted. But he shoved me
through a black curtain.
The lights were so bright
I couldn't see the faces
of men sitting
opposite. But, thank God I thought
they can see me!

'Look!' I cried. 'Look at my face!
Doesn't anybody know me?'

Then a hood covered my head.
'Don't make it harder for us,' the hangman whispered.