Bloodworm of my heart you feed on
Bloodmeal, bloody meat, tarantulas whose bodies
Sing in whistles whilst they smoke and die.
As a mahogany seed you birthed into the bloodwood tree,
Your bloodline a thin, red ribbon, crossing over the moor.
You are bloodthirsty, bloodstained, bloodshot;
You carry the bloodstone of your mother in your pocket,
Next to your weathered glock.
When alone you walk the shore.
You are the smell and color of cheap wine and dead hibiscus,
Jaded and dry. You bloodsuck
The poison from every eye and swallow
Bloody confessions, bloody prayers, bloody lies;
Bloodletter, you never lay your body down.
You deny Bloodless Revolutions, bloodlessness;
In your bloodstream flows the tombstones of the bloodbaths
That crowded at the mouth of history to set a crimson brand.
Blood-and-thunder, you drown beneath Blood Moons,
Deep suns, blood-red skies; you curse
The bloodhounds that charge you into the sea and the
Bloodfins that pick your bones clean and white.
I do not feel the need to tell you of the
Hammers that pound and wake you, of the things
That claw and berate you; you are a dark, locked away cherry pit,
Waiting to be sprung.
In your black room, I watch you tear yourself as you
Shed the blood. Into a clear long vile
I drain you, and cap what is left of you, I carry you,
Carry you out into Midsummer.
Such is life; as blood you shine: as a ruby, rubicund and
Flushed, hale as a newly bloomed rose you
Sleep into the autumn, winter, and spring.
When you are
At long last, released, you are the color
Of flashing fire, of passion and danger, of
The last shred of twilight before the night seizes it.
Warm and inviting, you are
Bloodkingly, bloodroaring, bloodmajesty, bloodtrue. The
Blood on your hands washed free, as a flame
You bend for the water, flicker, hold—
You go out. All your anger is finally
First appeared on Poet’s Corner June 29, 2016