Gas Mask Nightmares

There is a gas mask clasped against my face

And a foul stench of rotting strawberries engulf my lungs

The woman is patting my head, counting,

And I am sure my eyes are wide and red

All things are turning black

Cold hands massage a shoulder

An effort to comfort me, though

On increasing the anxiety

Everyone is moving around me

And the last thing I remember

Before seeing only black

Is that gas mask and the ether

That rose from plastic pores

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