Up all night until the sun was still below the horizon, I waited for the medication, the slow burn of anesthesia in the cradle of my arm, the quick sleep where it wasn’t drifting, but an expanse that deepened around my irises and low in my belly as the white room darkened to green-blue, the freshly warmed sheets from the dryer placed on me by a stranger, the blood dripped down my arm as I closed my eyes; here is where I am empty, where an eclipse of unseeing determines the wide inquisitive canyons of impact within a single point, sedated wildflowers hung still in the dripping silence, and sunlight slowed through lace curtains on winter landscapes of uncovered shoulders.