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by Rhyssa Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Contest Entry · #2057229
a standard for agony
when I wake up
hidden fire
eats my arm
from within,
the IV burning
drop by drop.

needles conjure no dread for me.
when I was very small
my daddy pinned me
to my diaper.
my eyes got big and quizzical,
as if to ask him,
did you mean to do that?
but I never cried
and trusted him still
when the pin was gone.

when the nurse makes her rounds
I ask her why I burn.
potassium, she tells me.
she checks the bags, adjusts
it will drip slower, now—
that’s all I can do.

I cry that night,
long hours spent
rustling my pillow
to a dryer spot,
whimpering
until the bag is empty.

I feel that burn again
standing beside a hospital bed
as my sister stares at me,
her eye still so blue,
so like our mother’s—
so blind.
and I am helpless
powerless to fix her.

line count: 36

Prompt
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