I'm thrilled that Kathleen McPhilemy chose to feature this poem in the latest Poetry Worth Hearing episode.
The podcast is now available on anchor.fm/kathleen-mcphilemy and Audible.
--
An Ode to Blood Pressure
For Scipione Riva-Rocci.
I did not dwell on cell types
or colour.
Only the pressure of blood
in my veins.
My blood became the star of my theatre.
I thanked my parents and cognates
and all
other guides
as the star poured out its life
over seats (the cheap ones and the plush ones).
Behind the stage and curtain was a heart.
A machine that pumped.
(A boundless wonder).
Its sacred physics reached all my organs
in the theatre.
The immense pressure in my feet
as I stood.
I buckled under
the weight of my blood.
The banging of life against my vessels
was the first act,
second act,
and all acts.
The pressure built up on the theatre’s damp insides.
I saw an exit door contort during
one machine beat and another one flexed,
between beats,
in this bold ticker cycle.
The space was safe
so I just clapped and clapped.
--
Stephen Paul Wren