in 204 --
But pain can't slip the sensors.
Eyes snap open -- rush outside where'sthefire.
Nothing. The telltale hand is inside busy, busy
I grab/rattle the rails
Of this bed on wheels, moved/locked,
In the bigger room, at the end of the hall,
Where more machines now crowd
Dripping & clicking & hissing & dripping ...
My eyes go back inside to pain's theater
And who's on the screen, hard to see,
But father and son in dark woods
Hunkered down for one of the lessons.
He's got the stick and the tuna can, twisting
Wood/metal, squealing the wounded rabbit
Whispering, "Look round son, look, look."
He flashes his light in the bushes and trees
And everywhere there they are -- eyes,
Glowing pinprick pairs.
"Lots of things eat rabbits, boy.
Specially one in trouble.
Look, look at 'em waiting."
I pull off the mask.
The machines now know.
They are calling for help.