Lunch Poems
Platelet Count Descending
A new poem by D. A. POWELL, author of Chronic, in which Lady Sings the Blues is intoned, sung, spoken, and hollered.
- Spanking the Arils From a Pomegranate (August 12, 2010)
- Slider (June 29, 2010)
- Kentucky Derby (April 27, 2010)
Also in Lunch Poems
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Which is why no biopsy.
Which is why no root canal.
Which is why the blood draw
made that simple stick
into a plum branch bruise.
I’m singing Lady Sings the Blues.
Panhandle Park is a bit attenuated,
too.
Easy to spot the blackbirds
in the sycamores,
as the branches denude.
What protects us
goes away. I get it now:
you probably still go bareback
as you were wont to then.
I needn’t tell you check the mirror
once in a while.
I know you do.
And that you’ll worry
if, like facts and blood,
you, too, begin to thin.
—for Haines Eason
Which is why no root canal.
Which is why the blood draw
made that simple stick
into a plum branch bruise.
I’m singing Lady Sings the Blues.
Panhandle Park is a bit attenuated,
too.
Easy to spot the blackbirds
in the sycamores,
as the branches denude.
What protects us
goes away. I get it now:
you probably still go bareback
as you were wont to then.
I needn’t tell you check the mirror
once in a while.
I know you do.
And that you’ll worry
if, like facts and blood,
you, too, begin to thin.
—for Haines Eason
—Published April 2, 2010
