Glass: A Journal of Poetry Volume One Issue Three
Blood Groups At home
I have picked
this moment
off.
A nurse
mosquito-mouthed
speaking into
the megaphone
green delta
to my palms:
an open sea.
All the bodies
in her words
and the words
now in my body.
Where is
choice
in these boxes
these papers
my form?
Where is
devotion
through these tubes
this plasma
screening?
Where am
I
pinned down by
an irrelevant
O Negative?
in my bed
everything goes
I am
just blood
coral red.