poem

Vigil

Before putting in the arterial line

They check the pulse at her wrist

And document a negative Allen sign.

DNR, do not intubate, no surgery

Even if it would save her life.

But pressors were ok and antibiotics

And anything else to relieve her suffering.

The POA papers didn’t make any sense—

Keep her alive but do it kindly?

She was tach-ing away in the 130’s

Wide eyed and pale,

Positive Blumberg sign,

Cheyne-Stokes respirations,

Surrounded by a phalanx of providers.

This was the danger zone.

Everything here has a name

Except for what to call the gathering

Of family and friends clutched in vigil

In the small room next to the elevator

Waiting for the procedure to be done. 

We have murders of crows,

Coalitions of cheetahs,

Quivers of cobras,

Pledges of wasps,

But no word for small clusters

Of humans on the verge

Of a devastating loss.

2/22/24