let’s draw blood


blood transfusion in a fucked up poem:

eyes meet, hearts melt into puddles of misery,
a guy shot a man, and a man a guy
at midnight when the sky was pistachio-green
and earth slightly shifted beneath their feet.

love is common place – words are the dregs
of tea left in my battered mug, hugs are given up
in arms that rattle like broken windows, and

they dare say,

*“This is not what we came to see…”



*”This is not what we came to see” is quoted from Brian Patten’s poem The Projectionist’s Nightmare.
Linking it up with Poetry Pantry and With Real Toads.

Image source

29 thoughts on “let’s draw blood

  1. There is a beauty in this poem which is hard to define but it is definitely there – fucked up or not – words are the dregs
    of tea left in my battered mug..sprang out for me.. i suspect they maybe more than that


  2. An energy of dissolution is still energy of a sort, and every friction brings heat along with the scrape and seep of its burn–love especially the pistachio green sky, such a sign of endtimes, tornadoes, the whole holocaust we dish up for ourselves…the whole poem is tight as a drum.


  3. Susan says:

    Oh, the tea leaves! Some believe, some don’t–but if those dregs are our only tool we’d better proclaim them as loud as this. POW! I’ve been missing your poems.


  4. WOW
    you stole all the imagery cookies from the jar; I fear there are non left for other writers.
    I really enjoyed this Anmol and; thank you for dropping in at my Sunday Lime today.
    You should consider linking in some times and use my blog button on you blog when you do

    much love…


  5. WOW! This poem is so powerful I would have to quote all the lines back to you, to say which I liked best. But words as the dregs of tea in a battered mug stand out the most. Wonderful writing!


  6. Sounds like our Houston, Texas. Most years we are second, per capita for sure, to Chicago in shootings, New Orleans before the flood was worse.


  7. Rosemary Nissen-Wade says:

    Interesting pic, well-chosen for this vivid poem. I too loved the dregs …mug lines best of all, but all the images, and the mood, are striking.


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