Painting

I go to type

And blood drips onto my laptop

    One of my fingers

Has a cut 

   Which is weird

Because 

All I did

    Was drive to a coffee shop

Order my cup of coffee

    Put some honey in it

Sit down

   And scroll through my phone

    I shouldn’t be bleeding . . .

My legs are sore

   From getting them kicked at the gym yesterday

My shoulder hurts

    And my face has a few marks on it

But besides that

   I am fine

I only grimace in pain everytime I sit down or stand up

    Every step hurts

But it doesn’t hurt too bad

   I can take it

I can fake it

   It’ll heal

And maybe I’ll be stronger for it

  But my finger shouldn’t be bleeding like this . . .

I grab a napkin

   And wrap it up

But the blood soaks through it 

    The napkin turns bright red

And people start to stare

  I tell them that I don’t know what happened

It just started bleeding when I went to write

    It was a spontaneous opening of the skin

And maybe that happens sometimes . . .

    I’ll be okay

It’s a small cut

    Nothing to worry about

I can still write

   And even though my legs feel like jello

And every movement hurts

   I can still fight

But the bleeding doesn’t stop

   And the spontaneous opening of the skin

Grows wider

    Grows deeper

And more blood pours out of it

    It’s okay, though

I know where the letters are

    On the keyboard

I don’t need to see them

   To hit them

And typing into a pool of blood

   Is something new

Something I’ve never done before

   And at the age of 32

How often do we get to do something new? . . .

I accidentally wiped my eyes

And now there is blood on my face

    People stop and stare

But I just sit there

   Still typing

Still trying 

One person comes up and thanks me for being so bold

Apparently I am making a political statement 

    But

I can’t stand politics 

    And I look at her

Confused

     She tells me that I must be a courageous human

For sticking up for those kids in Gaza

    I must be full of empathy

I must be a kind soul

   To be so bold

I tell her,

  “Lady,

My coffee is bold,

   I ain’t . . .”

My whole table is covered in blood now

   And people have come to watch 

There’s a crowd circling me 

   Whispering to each other

And

   I’ve never had a crowd watching me write before

That’s pretty neat

   If you ask me

I stop

   And look around

One lady gasp

   Covering her mouth

Watching me

   I get up slowly

My legs aching horribly 

  And then I wobble to the cash register

The whole crowd goes bananas 

   Cheering for me

I look around

   Beyond confused at this point

I order another cup of coffee

    And sit back down

Blood has dripped off of the table 

    And has covered my seat

I sit down anyway

   It’s okay

I’ll be okay

   I bet I’ll be okay

This little tiny cut

    Won’t hurt me

My skin in too tough

   My mind is too chiseled 

My soul is too dark

    I can just take my pain

And turn it into art

    I can use all of this blood

And paint with it

CH 6/5/24