I’m always surprised how it appears
bright and fresh on my fingertip.
It seems to spring from a secret
inner pool.  I imagine it flowing
through my body, an underground
stream.  At the doctor’s office, I look
away as they draw dark red tubes
from the plump vein in my right arm.
Once I fainted at the sight of a paper cut
and awoke with people standing around
observing me on the floor.
I knew I’d entered a new realm
with blood on my pants at 13.
Red reality like a matador’s cape.