Sky Blue

 The lights were so blue

For a second

She thought she was having that dream

Where she’s on an invisible plane

And all around her

There’s nothing but sky

But her eyes were open
Before she knew they were

Like in a film

When they cut sharply

To the next scene

Without any kind of transition

Her professor used to have a word for that

Not the technical term

But his own personal phrase

For what it was

He had his own vernacular

For a lot of things

And she had enjoyed his class

But never pursued the major

Because she had wanted

To be a doctor

Since she was a little girl

Until she had finished

Her studies

She had never thought of herself

As being very alert

But a good program

Can dramatically transform

Who you are

Before it turns you

Into an MD

And that’s what had happened to her

She became more aware

And then a bit too aware

Skittish even

Which wasn’t always helpful

But better than how she had been

Before attending medical school

Too ignorant of her surroundings

Too slow to notice things

Even big things

Until they were upon her

But she had no way of knowing

How long the room

Had been filled up

With blue light

Because it seemed to have

Pulled all sound from the room

Not just the fits and stirs

Of the average night

But the sound of her breathing

Of the ceiling fan turning

And the low hum of the dishwasher

Which she’d always start

Right before bed

Because the steadiness of it would soothe her

And she found the idea

Of getting a white noise machine

To be too indulgent

Though she could certainly afford one

Her mother thought

That even having a dishwasher

Was extravagant

Because she raised her

Out in the country

Where they were the last family

In the town

To have an indoor bathroom

And it was something

That always brought her shame

When she was young

She would lay in a bed

Much smaller than the one

She was in now

And outside, by the barn,

She’d hear what sounded like

A car coming up the road

Except there was no traffic

On those roads late at night

And she knew that

She asked her mother

If she could sleep with her window shut

But she got mocked

For her own fear

And so she left it open

But the sound of turning wheels

And something whistling

Not a person, but a machine

It would keep her up

All night sometimes

But it never showed itself

Never filled her room with blue light

One day her mother

Fell in the kitchen and cracked her head

On the counter going down

And because they were so far from the hospital

Her mother slipped into a coma

Before the ambulance arrived

And she always felt guilty

At not being able to do anything

Even though she was just a little girl

And she had thought to put a cold washcloth

Under her mother’s head

Because she had read about something like that

A teacher had given her at school

The light in her room now

Has spheres and oblongs in it

Where the color is somewhat darker

But never moving

She feels her lip quivering

And her hands shaking

And she thinks

She might pass out

Which would be a courtesy

Since she doesn’t want to find out

Why the light has chosen

To come find her

When before

It only sent sound

The spheres begin to join together

To form a circle

At the foot of her bed

And only then

Does she catch the whistle

Only then

Do the wheels

Begin

To turn