Poetry can help physicians in many ways at the border between life and death. Though we might think first of the consoling power of elegy in confronting mortality, other poems, like "Again," aid us in wrestling with what death is in the first place -- and are even more useful when research falls short in attempting to demystify it. One such scientific controversy surrounds in-hospital resuscitation, especially for older adults, with studies showing inconsistent rates of meaningful survival after these potentially life-saving interventions, confounded by the physical and emotional trauma that accompanies them, poor understanding of patients' and families' wishes, unclear definitions of "meaningful," and varying patient selection criteria. "Again" distills some sense out of this complexity as only poetry can, with the urgent repetition of "again" expressing the ingrained imperative to act when patients experience cardiac arrest while echoing both the many previous resuscitations hospital staff well remember, along with the 2-beat, up-down muscle memory of performing chest compressions. Also evoked is the tenuousness of life at such moments, with the spine-tingling detail of the disembodied "thin fingers" that grab at the speaker's wrist, which suddenly and undeniably become a real person's touch in the 1-word line -- stunning as a shock delivered via defibrillator -- "Yours." Thus, a reflexive, futile endeavor becomes a human being's dying moment, allowing us to feel closure. Debates around in-hospital resuscitation suddenly quieted, we recognize life's inevitable finality, underscored by the poem's ironically dignified resignation in its concluding line: "Never again did you wake."