VIALS

someone here wrote a poem about strawberry cheesecake 
and someone here wrote a poem about the blood inside your veins 
and when I went to get my blood drawn downtown 
the nurse had me lay down (I told her I  pass out)

softly recounted her holiday weekend

how she went to the Starbucks Reserve (she’d been meaning to go)

and had a chocolate espresso drink (that wasn’t a mocha)
and strawberry cheesecake (dang was it good)

how you holding up she asked 

hanging in there I said  (fist clenched against the draining)

well it’s over she said 

as poems are psychic algorithms 
as she an ordinary angel 
as my blood is darkness

and there's blood

to spare