To float on oxycodone clouds
listing in the painless nothing,
white on white on white and paling
as vitals descend to garish lines
and numbers on a blank screen.

Voices become whispers, broken sounds,
phrases curled under doors, around curtains
all slowly hazy, a distant foghorn
calls a name over and over
fading with the passing ship.

Waves on the beach tumble to foam
and the gentle hiss of the water
silent – pain free for only moments:
a child in sandcastles, the wonderment
all ages before any of… this.