Jet Trail At Sunrise
Someone sprayed a pink plush
across the early morning sky
a neon tube, lit-up in the half-light,
shooting from the rooftop of
Kaiser Point West, and
into the heavens.
The phlebotomist
wipes the crook of my arm,
tells me to make a fist,
probes my vein, and
sticks me with a needle.
Black-red fills the bulb. Then,
capped & sealed, the specimen
is labeled for the lab.
"Next!"
- January 2018
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