by Alan Abrams
Friday, March 09, 2012
Rated "PG" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Alan Abrams
on March Seventeenth
We Run Risks
two 'kus for the season
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secret shadow, latent lump,
abnormal level...what ho!
needle, not so slender as you’d hope,
still it's but a prick, but no--
--no, it’s not the pain that makes his eyes avert--
as blood, his blood, spurts up the slope
of the pristine, glassine tube
with each detectable pulse
of the lubdub heart
what news is borne on each deceitful molecule,
telltale platelet, tattle telling corpuscle,
what feckless hemoglobin stewing--
in cellular conspiracy, protein revolution, brewing underneath these skins--
--what organic mutiny, drumhead jury--
lifedeath sentence, summary execution--
is in store--for him today?
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|Reviewed by Connie Faust
|There are blood tests---and blood tests. Mine are routine, monthly checks to monitor coagulation. The type that you write about with fear of impending doom are so "other than routine." The little vial holds the prophecy of his future. Apprehension reigns.
|Reviewed by Diana Legun (Reader)
|Oh my vision here. Fear. You have painted the pallet of fear. Great power punch in adjectives of 'deceitful' molecule and 'tattle' telling corpuscles. It highlights with bright yellow marker the 'too up close and personal' we've gotten with our megamicro analytics that can most often create more havoc than we began with. Sorry, I have a thing about white coats. I enjoy your word "glassine". ~~ Diana|
|Reviewed by Regis Auffray
|I often go for blood tests; your words hold special meaning, Alan. Love and peace,
|Reviewed by Asa Seeley
|hope the results is negative for anything other than normal. thanks for sharing.
|Reviewed by Ronald Hull
|Powerful words about the fear we feel when we are forced to have a blood test and we suspect that something terrible was wrong.