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Hospital
at Night Evan
Miller I had to sit and
watch death Dry up 92 years,
every last drop. I drove home to
meet it. Torn, wanting
instead To take off in
the opposite direction. It was in the
room, On skin and
devouring Each struggled
breath. Just taking,
never ever giving. A week within
Jesus’ birth, There was death. It didn’t care
about inconvenience or Life at all. Death just took
what it wanted from a man, On borrowed time
since 50. Death came when
it wanted, Slinking in with
a smirk. Death stung in my
nostrils, I just wanted to
vomit it right back out As soon as it
came in. And death leaves
without guilt, Allowing everyone
else to figure out the rest.
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