Pulling the Plug on Granny

From The Tots' Apocalypse

PULLING THE PLUG ON GRANNY

by Brett Rutherford

Grandma is in and out of it.

I come after school each day
to sit with her. Much as I
hate the smell of dying,
I know what I’m about

(and being only ten, they
pay no mind to my whispers
in granny’s ear,
and her whispers back). 

One  knob, we have found,
brings granny up
and almost herself;
another is lights out
and nurses come in
to clear the room.

All three of my Aunties
have found and copied
her original will.

On Monday Aunt Irma came
and guided Granny’s hand
to sign an amended version.

On Tuesday Aunt Thelma came
and guided Granny’s hand
to sign an even-more-amended version.

On Wednesday, Aunt Lena came
and guided Granny’s hand
to sign a thrice-amended version.

“There,” she called out
to one and all. “Now let her rest.”

Knob up, knob down.

I might be adopted,
or illegit-whatever,
but Granny and I
have something special.

I bring a brand-new will.

Knob up, and Granny signs it.

Knob down, lights out,
but not before she tells me, 

We’re done now, deary.
Just pull the plug.