Anesthesia

IV dripping apathy

(fluids, antibio

-tics) and a void

around the pain.

She was born with eyes wide

open.  She knew me

once I told her, “Beautiful,”

and they took her

before my itching mother-arms,

the pillars

made of all the strength I had left.

She was gone,

a few snarls from tactless blue scrubs

while I was frozen

four stone limbs.

My blood began

detours around my heart

through my throat

in my words,

Please can I have

anything

a shower, a pill, a meal

that I’m not hungry for.

Please can

I move

(away from

something

-nothing).

And it still chases

while tiny fists curl,

asking, Why?

I get caught in empty space.

Four hours I sat wide awake,

in the most aching need of sleep,

until she was released

into my arms

a swaddled stranger.

Image

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