Poem on Jim's escape-
Deep in the dark, black
Southern night
Two young boys creep towards
A dim shed light
They peek through a crack on
The side of the door
And see a young black man sitting
On the floor
Ratt-a-tatt-tatt
The door swings forward
Recognition is met in silence
Ratt-a-tatt-tatt
The door swings back
Leaving them to work in
Silence
Scratch and clang, like an untrained band,
The black man's chains clank against the hard ground
Elaborate, showy the escape should not be,
But, alas, what is one to do, with two boys
Who have spent their lives,
Living a show?
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