Overdose Poem by John F. McCullagh

As she stepped into the M.E.'s chamber
The light was uncomfortably bright.
The policeman held her by one arm
As she took in an unwelcome sight:
A sheeted body lay on a slab,
a human who had come to harm.
The medical examiner pulled back the sheet
And she could no more deny.

Her son looked peaceful and composed,
almost as if he was asleep.
The needle tracks upon his arms
Betrayed addictions hold was deep.
"Yes" she said, "this is my son."
There was little else to tell.
She claimed his body from the state
thus sparing him a pauper's grave.
An Overdose was ruled the cause
The antidote administered was too late
With ceremony she buried him
In hopes of Heaven, in fears of Hell
Her tears betray a common grief
In Purgatory now she dwells.