The room shrinks.
She missed again, the vein dodging the needle.
The body reacts

                                                       confused

And ineffective. Cold yet sweaty, those ears sink under water.
My bags unpacked, my threads untied, yet

                                                                                           I am gone.

Nothing remains, and the nothing is tranquil.

A second? An hour?
The cacophony begins, muted
The ears throb and resurface.
Voices touch, hands speak. I taste their worry.
And finally

                                                                                            I am back.

I wash in the relief of my return. I’m not ready.

[Written April 2010. I’m on a medication that requires my blood to be monitored no less than once a month. Since starting this process more than 7 years ago, I have had a few vasovagal episodes like this one. – SMD]