Intravenous
A poem from deep within a six-year undiagnosed illness, now identified, healing.
The tang in the back of my throat, a rushing gathering warmth
roof of mouth
swallow
pulling down into warmth
it doesn't feel like I've peed myself
thought they said it would
almost a burn a spreading across my groin
and the taste of
the taste of
the taste of
hollow echoing corridors
alcohol
saline
fresh rubberized plastic
nothing tastes like anything in here because…
