Zero Poem by Leslie Ching

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A straight green line, interrupted only by the tiniest squiggle
Every five seconds on the gleaming black screen.
On the white bed below, eyes closed peacefully,
Body still and unmoving, as if still in sleep.
The squiggle slows, repeats less and less, until
On the black screen, it doesn't appear at all.
Zero. Zilch. Nothingness. A silent heartbeat dies.
'Should we pump him, Doc? ' 'We can try.'
The drone of the straight green line becomes unbearable,
Complete. 'I'm afraid there's nothing else we can do now.
We've tried everything. I'm very sorry for your loss. He's left us.'
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