Firm Fluidity
The sunlight wavers from the ripples down
Below. The surface of the fountain in
The square beneath his deathbed cannot drown
Keats’ poetry. The wavelets’ discipline
Had killed his writing earlier, before
He saw their wavering refractions on
His wall and ceiling. He could not write more
Once they had trapped him in their net. His swan
Song line, his epitaph, “Here lies one whose
Name is writ in water,” hints at complete
Erasure—or the meaning might refuse
That Arctic certainty and be replete
With paradox, might meld duality:
His name has flowing immortality.