Inscrutable Death - Andrew Barham

Today's poem is a "Golden Oldie" and was originally published here in January 2012

Just sits there
In the corner
By the ceiling
In the antiseptic isolation
Of the Neurological Ward,
Dark
Inscrutable
Death
Silently
Waiting
For that final moment
To spring
Propel itself from its perch up there
And grasp its prey
Death
Cold
Hostile
Inhuman
Utterly lacking compassion
As alien
And incomprehensible
As any predator
Dreamed up by Science Fiction …

Andrew Barham