MY NAME IS C**

      I GIVE BLOOD TO STRANGERS


I. Imagine a soul so pure.

The life she gives is held in empty fear.

She, fear,
Stands on a ledge,
Looking
down to the river
into the city,
Tracing wisps of smoke.


II. Fear is one with blood.

God weighs the damage.
For what would happen if she is spread too far?
Through the veins of the unholy
And wombs of the profane?  

The light is burning,
Smothering,
Loving.
Through the nourishment of greenery,
falling embers of cigarettes.

The light
melting comedians from cynics,
liberalism from slaves.
(Her light)
Burning girls out of bed after too many pills.

III.

She, girl,
Worries in unison.

She, girl,
Too winsome for words.