The eyes turn topaz.”
Touch me, touch the palm of your hand to my body as I pass,
Be not afraid of my body.
I lay on my bed, free of pain.
Then occurred the irreversible. In full extension at maximum velocity, as if following the plan of a torturer-coach, this George
leaped my body, using it as a springboard. Like a subordinate character in a myth by Faulkner, I had become adjunctive to the design.
And, because such is the nature of tragedy,
I still play my part.