Abstract
Where do we go from here?
Here where blood drips like sweat,
runs freer than water,
coats the floor and makes you fall down?
Why do we always forget
that blood is slippery
then sticky
then impossible to wash away,
that it gets under fingernails
and into nostrils
behind ears
and between toes
settling into the creases of pliant, ashy palms
getting trapped in the fibers of fabrics
and minds?
Do we not remember that
it dyes walls
stains concrete
soaks into dirt
finds its way into places raindrops never reach?
Blood, takes up residence in crevices
the unexamined underneath.
It seeks out fissures
and dries there
holding space until it is old and forgotten
then it flakes and scatters
like dandruff or confetti or rainbow glitter
clinging to our eyelashes
one shard at a time.