Abagail
Abagail
My shift again, quiet
As a mortuary; yet my
Charges are not the
Dearly departed. Mine,
They are the living dead,
Or rather, they are those
Who still cling to life with
A hosts of needles, monitors,
And constant care to keep
Them on. I watch them
Night after night and wait.
Calling those that may
Finally shuffle off their
Immortal coil of wires
And witchery. All one
Can do is hope for them.
Mind you, I don’t know
What there is to hope
For life or death, a
Visit from a friend, family
Member, or a fiancée newly
Married…to another man.
I am the one constant for you.
The frumpy guardian
To the gate of heaven or hell
Or whatever lies beyond.
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