blood letting 

who do you want to give
your bile? the doctor 
is a lego man. he says,
"fork over your eyes in exchange
for a life without pain."
sometimes the pain is so a part of you
that you wonder if you would
be the same body if it were released.
joints that sing like wet violins
& choking oboes. i remember of course
a time where it wasn't so bad.
when i could stand in the yard
& run towards an angel with all my might
without falling apart. the skeleton 
is an unfurling creature. each tomorrow
a slip & slide hymnal. 
you watch the blood rush swell
from trickle to river. a garden hose.
feeding the grass every cherry pie
& snow cone. soon you will faint
& the doctor will say you are
on the mend. he will use a pocket watch
to measure your wings. when you wake
you will open your eyes & find
quarters in their place. those little holy
george washingtons gazing silver
a the hearth room. he will say,
"it is a miracle." the angels in the yard
will squawk like geese. return to their migration.
you will return to the place
where the blood was spilled.
think of turning it into pillows 
& handing them out on a street corner
to strangers, telling them,
"my blood still want to kill me."