The Unflinching Command, Or, The Wide Empty

The suction tube had just made its sound,

a wet, small slurp, then silence profound.

My jaw was aching, already tight,

under that hot, unflinching light.

Then his voice, so calm, so matter-of-fact,

like a switch. There was no going back.

'Alright,' he said, a gentle, flat tone,

'Open for me.' And my breath, it had flown.

Open. Like a door, a dark, soft cave.

Surrender. A silent, forced brave

performance. The tang of metal air,

a penny-taste, a strange affair.

I could feel my face, stretched, absurd,

a silent scream, no spoken word.

He peered in. A tiny, silver sun

in his mirror. My self, undone.

Just a mouth, a body, a thing.

Waiting for the small, sharp sting.