The river of scarlet
spills onto my open palm,
and I cradle it
in the other hand.
Shock morphs into number fascination.
The flap, unhinged,
Unfurled like a door,
invites the ruby parishioners
to leave, flow
Go forth, pool in the lines
of my rigid hook.
I stare, head tilted,
wondering if now
is the time for a bandage.
