20150626 (temporary hero)

For years I’d faint at the sight of blood

Usually my own often another’s

Model airplanes could involve hospital care

If you slipped with a double-edged razor blade

Pinched from pop’s ratty old shaving kit

At least take a used one he’d offer

Red flow was enough but pulsing flow 

Brought an immediate stomach sinking 

Woozy slide to the ground

My head at the same height as my ass

Blood could then get to the brain 

I’d recover and wrap the wound

Tissue or rags whichever at hand

Till it stanched or was stitched

At which warnings were made

I ran the blood donor program at work

And steeled myself finally to give

Pumped out half a pint when

They saw I had faded from view 

They pulled my needle 

And said That’s enough

Lest I fall off the gurney and sue

I made it part way to the cookies

Before collapsing again and

As they were packing to leave their 

Kahuna-in-chief came over gently to urge

That I not try to give blood ever again

Should she see me at a donation site

She promised to break every bone in my body

And advised my wife who was called

To take me home Keep him as far away 

From the Red Cross as you can

So for about thirty years I didn’t try

But my knee operation required I

Have spares of my blood on hand

When quelle surprise! Oh Great Gloriosky 

I survived storing four pints for my knee

Then I gave regularly for three years or more

Switched to donating platelets 

A doubly needed procedure

Plus since it took longer I could watch a movie 

Regrettably one day selecting 

Master and Commander a Russell Crowe period 

Naval flick where at sea they had to operate

Without anesthesia on some unlucky tar

I was able to close the DVD player before

Losing consciousness

Not long after getting invited 

To an awards breakfast for prodigious 

Donation one of my test samples

Came up a false positive for HIV

Then came a phone call 

My next appointment was cancelled

The letter explaining why I was now

Persona non grata arrived on the Monday 

After the Friday I’d been scheduled to give

All those T-shirts I gotten every two months

Which I wore so often so proudly 

Are coming undone holes in the underarms

Too many paint drips too many spaghetti stains

God forbid even too many blood spatters 

That will not wash out

c. J.S.Manista, 2015