The clanging horn sounds again His robes tattered Scythe rusty He knows this sterilized place well Pay the toll on the River Styx Two blocks to the left Elevator to the sixth floor He watches her do her best Compressing the chest over and over A heaving, breathing attempt The clanging industrial sound of the end Metal against metal Iron, steel, blood Wrapped in cotton Despite the already hardened veins The machines beep out their story She weeps alone That is the price Of this terrific and horrible calling Angel among the damned Working the last stop on these desolate tracks Dust falls from his black robe And simultaneously disappears into the ether He sees her And knows someday she will see him A long way off yet Perhaps She returns to the floor with newly dried eyes Resolute and turning to yet another noise Another moan Another anguished plea for assistance The desperation of the helpless He ambles away from it all Guiding the formerly animated soul Down the fluorescent hall To god knows where She raises a cold stethoscope to a warm chest Offers a calm word A soothing voice To keep him at bay until he returns once more And he always returns