When I fall asleep

by Jessica Lyon-Wall

I was 12 when they brought me back.

The process

Was a slow one, over a year I went unnoticed,

Pale, thin, and guzzling

My brother's juice in secret.

One day I went to sleep

And didn't wake up.

I don't know how I got there,

But I remember some bright lights.

Then starched sheets and my teddy,

The wires in my hair.

They said I had been gone 3 days,

Link up my machines, I could be an industry!

(This is perhaps a story I should never tell)

I'd find my mum in the medicine room, practicing,

Stabbing citrus again,

But oranges don't bruise and satsumas

Don't feel pain.

The needles got shorter, the technology refined.

They were ever sure

They would fix the biology in my lifetime,

And find a decent cure.

I am fearful, and alone with it.

That is how it feels.

And if I do sleep, I have the dreams.

I settle down, I pull the duvet up,

Turn the lamp off, I wonder what my night will bring,

Whether my body is done,

If the morning will come.

Or if it will blossom

Into the perfect combination

Of sugar and hormones,

A day I've never seen before.

At the clocks twelfth strike,

Now the sun glows

Like corridor lights.

How I live is this-

And this is what it's like.