March 18, 2008 § 1 Comment

INDUCTION ROOM, AGE 2

There’s the man from before, and there’s the man again. He’s at the door. He’s at the door with his pen and he smiles, briefly.

My mother is here.

My mother is here.

My mother is here.

The tall WHITE man stands. He stands behind. His coat is WHITE. His hair is WHITE. His moustache is WHITE and it curls over his mouth.

The woman has pinned a needle into my chest. They’ve opened my gown. They make a plastic tube stick out from the needle. The woman takes a syringe and pushes liquid in. The liquid is pressed out from the syringe and goes into the tube.

The WHITE man talks.

My mother talks.

The WHITE man talks.

My mother talks.

My mother talks.

My mother talks.

My hand opens and closes. I reach for the plastic tube that held the syringe. The woman brushes me off and pulls the tube away.

My mother grabs my hand. She talks. “No, DYLAN, xxe xs xox xoxe.”

My mother has hot breath.

My mother is here.

The man with the pen is in the door. He is at the door and he holds a pen. He is at the door, in the lip writing something, and he doesn’t look up.

The woman pushes another syringe into the tube. She puts the syringe away. The tube is soft and I squeeze it. I am on the bed.

My mother is here.

The man at the door doesn’t look up.

Something hurts.

I don’t feel right.

Something hurts and I cry.

Something hurts and I cry.

Something hurts and I cry.

My mother is here. She talks.

The woman is here. She talks.

The WHITE man is here. He talks.

The man with the pen stands in the doorway. He writes. He doesn’t look up.

My mother is here. She talks.

Something hurts and I cry.

My mother is here. She talks.

Something hurts and I cry.

My mother is here. She talks.

My mother is here. She talks.

I fall asleep.

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