An Ode to Blood Pressure

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