vial

the velvet lives like your old sofa.
like a cupcake with cream cheese icing
that you fed me as if i were
a stray dog. we were children 
in the ocean zoo. your blood
& mine like curtains blown open.
i stand with my mouth full
of who-know-what. the nurses ask me
if i am still there. this is a seance.
the blood draw, like a tiny offering
to the old angel. a request,
"let us be immortal as trees." 
snapping off a twig & finding 
the tree's own crimson. i find myself
the jewel thief in the doctor's office.
i could take just one vial 
of my own blood. still warm.
run away with it. wait for it
to turn into a garnet or
a salamander. what of yourself
have you lost to the color red? 
trowel in my mouth. the roses 
that refused to grow in the flower box
out our city window. dear god
it is as if i am shopping in the window
of my own skeleton. i miss it.
i miss everything about it. 
about the dress made of card board.
about pretending we were
boyfriends in the disco ball fury 
of a middle school dance. 
in the car afterwards i search my self
to be sure i didn't actually steal 
the blood. i did not. i am heartbroken,
wishing i was a wilder ghost.