Fever in the bones

Death danced in  timeless bone.
It was intimations of mortality.

Woman had the underlined eye.
Beneath was dumb daffodil bulb

And  wind woodshed through it
And laughter was raucous skull.

But to all these calculated bones
We see love and poems clinging

As if the calcium has still a fever
Much after pneumatic bliss goes.

(Reading T.S.Eliot’s poem “Whispers of Immortality”)

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