They looked
Under the floor
Searched the space
Behind the cupboard
And though
They found
Traces of snow
And a sprinkling of
Ash
There was little
In the way
Of what one
Might call
A clue
Yet disappear
He did
And vanishing
He had done
From a place
Where windows
Were for show
And behind doors
Was nothing
But brick walls
There was no
Tunnel of escape
No plan
Or plottings
Of madness
And still
Somehow
He had gotten away
Seemingly
With his life
In tact
And the living
And the dead
Scratched their heads
Scraped at
The rustlings
Of ideas
But were no closer
To the truth
Than had they been
Born
Yesterday
In a barn
Or had followed
A star

So maybe
He had
And maybe
He hadn't
And sickeningly
What stood out
The most
Was
The shining truth
Glistening and tormenting
For he had
Escaped
Gone far away
And not one of them
Could say
Though never
Would they admit
That they were
More than a little
Jealous
That it was him
And not them
Forever