LITOTES
Or, Mr E's Annual Reminder
(From a manuscript lately discovered near Russell Square)
After the quick reflexive lunge,
The tell-tale digits on the wrist,
The shadow of Aesculapius
Pursues the ritual of the tryst.
The irises are hyacinth
Behind horn rims, betray no sign;
A voice interpolates the Word,
Triune, trochaic, Ninety-Nine.
Murmurs through mastoid finials,
The caverns of the wind inflate;
The veins beneath the pallid skin
Are varicose, vermiculate.
The passage of the water made
And cracked a last emollient jest
Decouchant motion limb by limb
And the assumption of the Vest.
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