Propped upon a chaise so faint,
so pale with antique grief,
that even angels hesitate
to touch its fragile leaf.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her lungs\u2014two trembling reliquaries\u2014
spill hymns in crimson lace;
each cough a Requiem aeternam
sung directly to her face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A single camellia, winter-white,
drops softly from her hand;
the petals, kissed by fever\u2019s blight,
obey death\u2019s mute command.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her satin nightgown\u2014clinging, wan\u2014
is drenched in holy dew;
for God Himself, in pity\u2019s dawn,
has wept her illness through.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her hair, unpinned, cascades like dusk
around a martyr\u2019s brow,
a sable shroud of tender husk
that Time would not allow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Oh, gaze upon her wasted frame\u2014
a chalice carved of frost;
the ribs, like harps of ivory flame,
sing all that she has lost.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A nurse collapses at her feet;
a doctor faints nearby;
even the dust motes pause, discreet,
to sigh before she dies.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A priest arrives, but chokes with awe,
forgetting every prayer;
her beauty violates his law\u2014
he worships her despair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her final breath\u2014a silver thread\u2014
breaks loose from earthly loom,
and in its wake, the very dead
rise weeping from their tomb.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For she ascends\u2014ecstatic, pure\u2014
through clouds of opal flame,
her suffering a vast couture
no mortal soul could claim.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The heavens, rapt in alabast,
unfurl their gates in plea:
\u201cToo tragic! Too divine! Too vast!\u201d
cries all theology.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Propped upon a chaise so faint,so pale with antique grief,that…<\/p>\n