Figuring Futilely on the Death Date of Shakespeare
“But thy eternal summer shall not fade” ~ Sonnet 18
The statue still defies his death or hers
Two thousands years or more beyond the grave
Or urn of ashes, shaping that prefers
The perfect lie that, carving, Greeks could save
Nth essences from everlasting nought
Before the zero even came to mind.
White statues call out silently, “I’m fraught
With life’s long meaning,” staring from two blind,
Blank eyes. If he was beautiful beyond compare
In life while stretching in the gym, if she
Was startling fresh in skirt and fragrant hair,
The marble reaches towards eternity.
Yet death is death. The marble fails at life
When figure rots though she were perfect wife.
~ Phillip Whidden
