Blood Drive

The Deep by Jackson Pollock 1953

[The Deep by Jackson Pollock, 1953]

Blood Drive

                      —mickeypamo

I saw blood on the sidewalk.

Steaming.

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

came.

Blushing at their thirst,

I kept out of sight.

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