blood lust

Clear tube fills,
dark blood swills
through a machine
that separates
red from the rest.

Without red cells,
blood is yellow
like the sunlight
filtering through
strip mall windows.

Men lie on beds,
women attend them.
Needles as hollow
as drainage ditches
dig into their arms,

drawing them
into a loop
with distant strangers,
these givers of life
to receivers unknown.


Word Prompt: lust

jugglers of chaos

My aunts clucked when we got too skinny,

jeered when we got too meaty,

yet fed us the same, always enough.

One hand gave, the other measured.

‘How’s school?  Are you still friends with that girl?’

My aunts, redeemers of knocked-up nieces,

menders of broken wives, wranglers of wandering families.

 

I saw them as meddlers.

I see now they were jugglers of chaos.

 


 

Prompt: meddle

Eat It

I envy the girls at Panera

in their school uniforms.

They order with the conviction

of saints venerated at their school.

“I’ll have that and that, but not that,” proclaims one.

Never that,” says another.

Their world is divided into subjects

they can choose not to take.

 

I stir cream and sugar

into the blackness of my cup.

I know that life is indivisible

and I must eat it all.

 


 

Word Prompt: uniform