post-op

My Pale Nurse

the light hurts my eyes

listen...
the drip, drip, drip
of morphine drip

waves of black
waves of white
waves of red

waves of mutilation
throbbing, stinging flesh

i lie open

blood crusts
nose, mouth, throat

waiting, in vein,
the slow of narcotic wash

my pale nurse appears instead,
an apparition floating in and out
of this room, my consciousness

her soft hand holds
my limp wrist,
wresting a pulse
from the hallucination
I am clinging to

in the aftermath of anesthesia
where dreams do not exist

photo by ac nagl