A Week after Your Death

I dreamt last night you
Lived nearby, not
Dead at all, but safe
In a blacksmith's storage room,
With bolts and nails in bins
From floor to ceiling.

You came and brought me
An ivory jar,
Holding a precious fluid,
Which I took. I knew it meant
The time had come,
But I let you leave.

Later a man pushed open
The door and threw
Your body down, a wizened,
Astonishingly small body —
Rope still tied
Around the neck.

I woke and cried to my wife:
" He didn't die
That way! There was no rope!
All that is wrong! " She
Said, " In
Your dream he did. "