Blood Drive

The Deep by Jackson Pollock 1953

[The Deep by Jackson Pollock, 1953]

Blood Drive


I saw blood on the sidewalk.


In ice-packed cases.

Open on the sidewalk.

Just drawn from a body.

Steaming with the heat of a person.

Waiting for the next life.

Warm wetness rising

and I tried not to breathe,

tried not to look at the word “blood”

as I passed

Hurrying through the window of the van.

Parked in front of my hotel.

I saw

a floppy tube pulled here

and there a pencil flying

arabesques of type.

I tried not to follow

the signs up

the steps of my hotel, through glass

doors to the edge

of a warm room

where elderly volunteers sing for clean

blood–“Capillary Lamentation”

I think.

They waited.

They sang. They

waited. Yet

tumescence never


Blushing at their thirst,

I kept out of sight.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s