Early Elegy: Smallpox Poem by Claudia Emerson
Early Elegy: Smallpox
The world has certified itself rid of
all but the argument: to eradicate or not
the small stock of variola frozen,
quarantined—a dormancy it has
refused, just once, for a woman behind a sterile
lens, her glass slide a clearest, most
becoming pane. How could it resist slipping
away with her, that discrete first pock?
Monday, May 28, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: elegy
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8/14/2026 11:52:46 AM # rel_20260813T193622Z_3aad590
