giving blood
inspired by the poke of a needle and a quiet mind
at 8am a blood letting,
an ancient ritual now sanitized in a white alcove,
an invasion of the body, not to cure
or prevent disease, but
to discover if one exists
my heart pumps its message
from vein to vials — distinctly labeled —
through a sanitized prick
maybe dire genetic secrets flow out,
maybe it’s just blood
clinical. efficient. the nurse
unceremoniously drops my samples
into a nondescript tray — room for more!
we lock eyes
in a day or two
the doctor will know
the intimate contents of my double helix
while to me, for now,
my blood remains an inscrutable mystery