The Ho-Hum

Inside the poisoned ivy covered walls
of the center for termination,
a room is filled with witnesses
as the eternal deathwatch continues.

A lifeless body lies on a bed surrounded
by bouquets of gargoyle gladiolus and black dragon lilies.
On a table to the side, a pineapple pen and paper await,
a death certificate to be signed in black-cherry ink

Artificial life support ceased.
A do not resuscitate order will be enforced.

The cardiac monitor still beeps and bumps.
The chest rises and falls in faint rhythmic breath.
Cerebral intellectuals and other attending physicians of the inhumanities
predict death is imminent and wait for the patient to flat line.

While, wild-eyed overzealous, overeducated academics,
coroners of literature and art, are at the ready to dissect
and perform an autopsy on the body of work.

Morticians pace the hall in anticipation to embalm the corpse.
But don’t know if it is to going be cremated, buried
or mummified.

The body begins to spasm and tremor
Is this the rattle?  Is this the end?
The body bolts upright,
sprouts wings,
  rises above the bed
   and flies out the window.

Out on the streets, life goes on.
Little or no crowd gathers any moss
amid the blend and meld of music
a cacophony of natural and unnatural sounds
flow into the jazz like euphony of existence
but no one seems to pay any attention
as it never was
but forever is
Poetry