The Muse and the Artist
Lay beside death,
On clean, white hospital beds,
Exposed with cruel mercy by halogen lights.
Something terrible must have happened,
But they were smiling as they were connected,
Precariously by a delicate IV wire,
And a bottle loomed above
Filled with an incredible hue of red,
So beautiful
That I couldn't fathom
If it was blood, wine, or love.