He is wrong. One on the verge
Of death’s no more of a ghost
Than He is when he writes here
In the lost voice of Tang-Ji
As she vows to drag out life.
Poor He on the hem of death,
A boy-king in his own way,
Doomed by a trick of his name,
They say, since Li’s not to say.
He will not drag out his life,
But the ghosts come from the names,
Not the flesh. Names trail death’s hem.
