The surface dissolves,
neither fast or slow enough,
exposing live nerve.
The surface dissolves,
neither fast or slow enough,
exposing live nerve.
By the time that I have forced myself to arrive,
the night before, spent doing headstands in misery;
by the time I check in, my vision is blurred,
and my hand signs my name on a page, shakily;
and, when I am called by a mask-clad technician,
my heart seems to pocket itself in my throat;
but the pain overrides my desire to hide,
its crushing waves barely leave me afloat;
I am shown to a recliner draped in plastic,
to catch all of the blood I’m expected to spill;
as I am lowered backwards, I bathe in bright light,
and then I’m directed to keep myself completely still;
the expectation of such a personal invasion,
has my every bone locked – rigor-straight;
the anticipation stabs at the thoughts I have,
my teeth randomly chatter as the pain radiates;
the technicians begin to prod and poke around,
and my nerves shred themselves into strings;
I remain still and silent against the clanging of tools,
hand-drills, icepicks, and other Gods-awful things;
my eyes instinctively close themselves
as each one drops a warm, heavy tear,
down both ridges on both of my of cheekbones
and silently drop themselves into my ears.
For a moment the buzz of the drill is blocked out,
and my body reflexively exhales to such reprieve;
the poking has ceased and my teeth fail to throb,
they have numbed me out successfully;
now, for the show to finally begin,
there’s a swarm of motion around my head;
they speak in a language I can’t understand,
I suddenly feel like I’m snuggly in my own bed;
I peel one eye open against the weight of the world,
to see nothing but blurred hands in my mouth;
at that very moment I think to myself:
“I think I’ll just sleep this one out…”
When I wake up, there are holes in my tender gums,
and bloodied surgeon gowns and gloves in the can;
I tongue my wounds and recoil at the generalized ache,
tomorrow brings a brand new, twice-as-toothless woman.
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