Lying on a sterile table, white wax paper
crinkled under my young body—
a needle buried in my wrist.
“Don’t worry, we’ll fix you right up,
when I count to three you’ll fall asleep.”
The doctor’s pale moon face
eclipses the florescent lights.
“I bet I can stay awake.”
He didn’t know I was the fastest runner in class,
had already kissed a girl, and knew division—
I was Immortal in my mind.
He smiles, “You can try – ready?”
He snaps the latex gloves on his hand.
“One,” he held out a finger.
Ants needle up my arm, their frozen legs
marched into my chest–
“Two.” Cold sweat, I focus on his fingers.
“Three.” Bitter mandibles gnaw
my optic nerves in half — his fingers fade.
I wanted so badly to make it to four.