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Medical Humanities

What Kind of Vigil?

Nathaniel Brown

March 20, 2015

My eyes drift to the placid deep
Of arabica in a paper cup.
Bitter midnight.

Pages mount.
The sick wait.
Scraped thin over suffering,

Spread under sheets.
Wet. Clammy.
I bring no warmth, only cold

I work now with, now against
Masterful changes wrought through

Eons to keep us humming.
The clockmaker ticks
Down the beats, down the breaths.

Time will consummate their fates and mine.
Sometime soon, maybe even