Jane Sellman

is creating Sentences and Paragraphs




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The Best Part of Waking Up Is Waking Up
Jane Sellman
A trip to bright lights and faint voices
Breathe in
I slip
through the table.
Into a quiet, like church
without the scent of burning wax and incense
discreet sounds of instruments tuning up
— that pulse ox is a bit sharp —
and first blood pressure, you don’t come in
until the chorus
slowing sounds, dangerous and comforting
like rap and a touch of Philip Glass
rustling of cotton
and squeaking of rubber soles and crocs
and my name repeated formally and loudly
like a fancy schmancy alarm clock
Miss Sellman
wake up
you gotta wake up
A sponge cold as Antarctica and wet as the Arctic
consoling my tongue, which is dry as British wit, which is somehow
under beach pebbles and desert sand
I beg for a complete ice cube – or a spoonful of water
instead of this
(arguably cute) guy swabbing my mouth.
You operated on my lung not my stomach.
Isn’t the stucco dry yet?
At last a nurse in braids and pink
presents a large white
Styrofoam cup filled with broken ice and water.
Again the Arctic.
And later the miracle of the white-coated
Doctor of Nursing Practice
bearing hot coffee from the alchemy lab
not instant
light brown and sweet
scent of the Holy Bean, first aroma of the day.

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