O-POS on a Sticker, Just a Type

The antiseptic sting, then the tube

filling, a dark, rich, steady flow.

She pulled the needle, quick and smooth,

a small cotton wad, a simple show.

"O-positive," she said, so offhand,

scribbling on a label, bright and white.

Just two letters, a symbol from her hand,

reducing all this crimson, out of sight.

It nearly went onto my chart, a brand,

a fact about the vessel, not the soul.

A part of me, mapped out across the land,

a type, a code, to make me less than whole.

And I just stared at that small, sticky square,

O-POS, like a package, neatly tied.

A vital current, flowing through the air,

a truth so deep, so easily supplied.