Copyright: Hrimwriter 2012
Time of Death
Shadows slink along silent corridors. Solitary crowds of
strangers sit side-by-side, stoic and unstirring: hushed
suspense. Silver-haired, she awaits a son and sister,
steels herself for the shush of the off-switch:
soporific swansong, bypass shutting down;
her heart in her husband’s chest, stops.
Beside her, chiaroscuro disguises
the shroud and scythe
sequestered amongst
scrub-clad saviours.
Gray’s insufficient,
souls shepherded
beyond the skill of
shocks and stethoscopes.
An unseasoned resident is
inspired to shame; he sourly
shakes his head. Romanticises
the day that steel drawers lie empty:
science steals white stiffs, black statues,
wins the fatal game. Scored on strange faces is
familiar helplessness. Sorrow submerses shared
joys. A last nostalgic sigh. Straining at the summit of
survival, the escaping spirit slips flesh shackles. Suddenly.
HrimWriter 