Universal Donor

The cabinet drawer has a heavy, metal bite.

I’m looking for a record I should know

but I’ve forgotten the math of myself

somewhere in the folders.

There it is. O-Positive.

Stamped in a red that looks like a warning.

It’s the same ink he carries

under his skin, three states away.

We could save anybody on the street

with a pint of what we keep locked up,

but we can’t seem to manage

a phone call on a Sunday.