O-Negative

She types it and it appears on screen:

O-negative, the rarest of the rare,

the letters that make me mean

something, make me useful, make me fair

game for the blood bank,

the hospital, the ones who rank

blood types like commodities.

My blood type—

I've said it to doctors,

to nurses,

to the red cross worker

with the clipboard,

but never like this,

never watching her fingers

on the keyboard,

never seeing it

become official,

become a record,

become a thing

that exists

outside my body now.

And I sit there

feeling small,

feeling like I've just handed over

a key

to something I can't take back,

feeling reduced,

filed,

useful,

O-negative,

which means I'm special

and also

completely replaceable.