February 29, 2012

Bloodwork










The doc says she
will call with results,
to reschedule, if necessary.
My sober phone awaits,
mute in my pocket,
on good behavior,
while at the lab
I'm slowly
dripped into the light,
screened, deciphered,
discarded, like growing old,
suddenly no longer
a specimen of interest.
Calls go out
to lucky and unlucky alike,
red lights blink
for some quickly, right
at the end of the day,
others lay wide awake,
deep in the heart
of the night.