Anesthesia

Anesthesia

I.
The night wind carries
Tragedies and moans
As my head bubbles
And slows.

I am full, overflowing,
And half-conscious as
Red wine pours out of my ears,
My eyes,
And is replaced with somber
Murmurs and unlocked doors
Anesthesia decomposes my hand
As I raise a compass
Whose arms spin in fervor
And the blood pumps thick
Warm, pure.

II.

As the thin clouds slither
And coil ‘round the moon
Light is squeezed, dims
wanes.
His only light the pale
Orange of inhaled toxic,
She sits and listens
To darting words, staccato excuses
And the gentle murmurs of eavesdropping trees.