12 Teeth Later Poem by Danielle Bettke

I lay on the operating table,
In a flimsy paper dress.
Doctors run around,
Trays rattle,
My bed begins to roll.

I squeeze my hands together,
The nurse takes one.
Pricked with a needle,
I squint.
I clench.
'Just Breath'
Breathing in gas,
My vision blurring,
My speech slurring.
My hands fall asleep,
My toes fall asleep,
Soon my eyes do too.

Waking up,
In front of a mirror,
I look myself over.
My swollen face,
My bleeding gums,
My tired eyes.
I hold my head up,
Heavy and uneven.
My blotchy skin,
My greasy hair.
My distant expression,
Gaping back at me.

I am a mess,
Drooling, dripping and panting.
Alone, helpless and fatigued.
I can't eat, I can't sleep.
'Just Breath.'