i have the rarest blood type.
by Eli Skipp
the worst kind of news is news you hear on the sly, doncha know.
granted, there's no way to be good at negotiations. i've got scars
on my knees, toddler scars, the kind that come from falling down
in un-recommendable shoes.
the issue main: these scars are purple and lurking, galumphy.
big ole lumps that are going to wiggle round on my caps for
years and years to come. if they were just my fault and mine
alone it wouldn't be so bad.
when my grandmother got sick with the sickness of ages she
was required to put away pints of her blood lest she lose too
much. she has the rarest blood type.
of all things to hereditate: forever, who can give me now this
cold and broken liquid. centrifuges first mean greyhounds
and then mean eating all my skin away.
Posted on 04/03/2010
Copyright © 2022 Eli Skipp
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Coleman Demiurge on 04/06/10 at 03:51 AM|
Yeah, being unique definitely has its drawbacks... Hah, like I would know: I'm as contrived as they come. Be it Bombay or AB-, the message is well received... A burden is hard to bear, especially when it's borne alone. I've never been very good at negotiating personally - too stubborn I suppose; runs in my family. Anyway, superb piece:- mysterious, poignant and most excellent (as usual)... Very well done.
|Posted by Max Bouillet on 05/13/10 at 03:56 AM|
Do shared genes with family members threaten our unique nature? Am I any less me because my ancestors came before me and instilled their genetic code into the ribbons of blood that circle through me? The bloodwork in the poem is of the rarest type. Its words course through my veins making me think. Excellent poem.