| This Edition's Poetry |
“Quietus”
Your face is an ashen shade of white
as the monitor beeps erratically.
I can see your soul oozing from the pores of your body.
It gathers in spider-thins wisps,
only to be blown away by the roaring fans
of the hospital's ventilation system.
Your heart still flutters feebly in your chest.
It reminds of a butterfly holding back a storm.
I know which will win.
Ba-dum.
[…]
The line is flat now, like white static.
I sit by your bedside, holding your hand.
I can feel the warmth lingering on your pallid skin.
Does that mean there is hope yet?
I guess not, because a nurse just came in
with tear-stained cheeks
and pulled a pale sheet over your face.
She turned off all the machines.
The monitor no longer beeps.
For the first time in my life, it is truly silent.
I hate it.
I hate this quietness, this suffocating stillness.
It is not you. It is not you.
Is it foolish, to cling to something that no longer exists?
You’re dead- that much I know.
But when I close my eyes and listen,
I find that the
b e a t i n g
of your heart
is with me-
still.
By Katy Li
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