six hundred days

Posted on July 11, 2012 in Poetry

always blood runs thicker than water
and mine
for six hundred days
thick as chilled molasses
stuck damn near solid
in cluttered veins

thick as crusty mascara
dribbling down
faded showgirls’ faces
who weep for beauty
abused by years
and pray to wake up ageless

thick as blurry visions
of the last slurred man standing
at last call’s cruel arrival
or the foggy, raptured
eyes of cancer
halfway through dying

liquid of mother
of father and brother
always runs thicker than water
wife, lover, lake, river
will never be son
they will never be daughter

it clogged me up,
this thickening
in my ventricles
in my arteries and vessels
in my brain stem and muscles
in my sinuses and follicles

it weathered me
like a concrete dam
and i damn near cracked
but for six hundred days
i held that water back
and i’d do it for six hundred more
with sandbags waiting in the wings

with my blood
thick as superglue
holding the leaks closed
thicker than water
thicker than brick
thicker than gold
and my clamped up cramped
steel rod of a backbone
will barricade the road