Tuesday, October 28, 2014



456 pounds of flesh
            In the ICU
            Mounded up on the bed
There was a man hidden in all that flesh
            Covered in hair and scars and moles and skin grafts
Machined up
Tubed up
Wired up
            Like a failed Borg
            Like an experiment
            Like Frankenstein giving it another go
                        Praying for Lightning

Sedated flesh

Organs lining up
One by one
For their chance to check out

A mountain of chest
            In rhythm with machine sighs

Death paced the hall
            More impatient than ever
            Its foul stench oozing in
            Toward Kelly’s desk.
Where she measured life
            In beeps, blinks, and blips
Without grimace or contempt or judgment
            Of the fat man in the ICU
Half naked, squeezed into an oversized bed
            Everything in the world
            Too damn small for him

Kelly rummaged around in her bag of compassion
            Dignity looked like clippers
            Honor looked like a file
            A quick pedicure before Death barges in

A generous and unanxious pause
             Between the violence of life

            And the violence of death

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