Blood Imagery

A poem

Red and warm if taken fresh.
A balmy 98.6 degrees
Thin or thick, if coagulated.
A taste like iron in my mouth,
but only if busted free to drip on my tongue
otherwise it is there with no taste at all
kept in its veins.

The Liquid of Life

Flowing through the rivers inside us all
All of those considered living.
Pumping, pumped, pushed to the extremities
raised too high, it won’t flow at all.

Mixed with breath, then life is given
Take all the air out of the room,
Watch the river flow blue,
Giving not life but death
River Styx

Wash in the river
let it rain down on me.
This red rain, this holy water.
Drink of this cup and live
… or die if spilled out on the ground.