The last night

by Miranda Yeo

Half-lidded onyx eyes

stared back fish-like

tear ducts brimming

A scarecrow face,

her hair a wreath of soft snow

Brown paper skin,

crinkled at the corners of

her frown, mouth agape

hanging

She is wrapped in sterile sheets,

bathed in fluorescent glow,

as plastic tendrils thread

In, out

of her orifices,

ferrying desperate life

to forsaken home

We are told

the signs of life

are in steady

beeps and blinking lines

We are told

convulsions and

hand twitches

are reflex

not response

And so we wait on

for shell to follow

where soul took its leave