Saturday, November 21, 2020

Previously Published in Envoi Poetry . . .

 

Hemophile


I am not vampire.  I do not desire
to taste or feed.  Disgusting
sacrilege.  I worship the vein,
the sacred vessel embracing brilliant
blue corpuscles.  The accidental cut,
oxidizing blazing red rivulets.  Running
ruins to be remembered, retracted
as effigies of the essence
of everything.  Renfield's eloquent
echo:  The blood is the life.  The blood
is the life.



1 comment:

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