To Be Anything At All

  I Lose My Hands To Use My Heart   The clot refuses to form –   Gushing, the protesting platelets ignore my pleading.   I’m being snuggled in a velvet blanket that is blooming out of me.   As far as blankets go, it’s pretty effective – I’m warm.   The white of the Moon above bleeds into my entire frame.   I’d say I’m ready to shake hands with the seraphs – but my hands have crashed into the nearby Holly.   Past the wine-stained pavement, and the jigsaw of what was my car, the limbs lay with no master.   Silver lining: Anna decides not to follow the Sower.   She is smiling and I am too.   After all, I have an organ donor card.