Plague took us and the land under us,
Rose like a boil, enclosing us within.
We waited and the blue sky writhed awhile
Becoming black with death.
Plague took us and the chairs from under us,
Stepped cautiously while entering the room,
(We were discussing Yeats) it paused awhile
Then smiled and made us die.
Plague took us, laughed, and reproportioned us,
Swelled us to dizzy unaccustomed size.
We died prodigiously; it hurt awhile
But left a certain quiet in our eyes.