My blood,
that flood within,
that unceasing flow
of dark red and almost blue —
though it remains hidden,
I will not see blue as it
blushes upon instant exposure
to oxygen — it all comes out
red, red with sugar and
panic at first
and then settles into
ordinariness;

my blood, that stream,
that river beaten by my heart
into moving — until that day
when it slows and then
adjusts to a new
ordinariness, a stillness
I will not fathom then
or ever;

I wonder about it,
blankness of time everlasting
afterward until somehow
I am awakened into a new
ordinariness, a refreshed
sense of wonder, risen anew
into love and hate and lust

and every day a sense that
this has never happened
ever before, my blood
singing with it
as if it were a virgin awakening.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
T