Vigil

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The death thought thickens.
In the honest light
Of the sick room lamp
The thinning fingers
Antiseptic
After 21 days of 
Only sleeping

Become more
Pearlescent 
And Iridescent
With each passing hour
They form loose
Skin patterns
Rippled as waves
Yet not beautiful as water,

But akin
To chickens.

Author: D. M. Corgiat
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