Today is one of those days I have been dreading
because it all feels too personal.
His hands, slippery in rubber
up against my teeth filling my mouth
The metal or the pain, one of those, smelling hot
like a pot of soup left to burn on the range.
He will have me lay back in his chair,
his eye magnified like a bugs
through the lens so that I cannot bare
to look at them
I will be trapped and he will be in control.
That is the worst part isn’t it?
I will stare up at the light,
it’s sickly yellow hue.
There will be blood, and saliva,
filling my mouth.
If I can see it, in the reflection of his glasses,
I will think I am being punished.
This is how it will go.
There is too much work in the tending of the body,
and I don’t understand why I cannot just check out
sometimes, just float into another space,
without thought and without the notion of the next thing
waiting to fall.
I will remember being younger and not being afraid
of this man with the metal and the needles
and the white mask over his face.
stupid and foolish children can be.
11 hours ago