In that instant
when the pressure of blood
leaking from a worn-out vein
reached critical mass
and began shutting down
brain cells by the millions;
in that instant
when he realized
the last thing he would ever know,
my grandfather
called out for his daughter.
Being a nurse
of some considerable experience
she immediately determined
that he was in fact as dead
as he would ever be.
So she called the ambulance
and rode with his body
to the hospital.
My grandmother
relayed the news
that he was bad, very bad indeed;
but there was a chance
they might help him at the hospital.
I could not find the words to tell her
they would never revive him;
the trip to the hospital
was a consideration,
arranged so he'd be declared dead there
rather than at home
and she would be spared
the further pain of an autopsy.
(c) 1992
Lynn Cohen
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/final-arrangements/
