A sudden slice of skin
That pearls, then peels apart
Beading tiny drops of liquid
Which sit neatly, quietly
Waiting, welling for a moment
Brimming, holding pause
Needing further strength
Before pushing outwards
Then the pump and pulse
Of a distant heartbeat
Forcing pressure
Through arteries, veins and capillaries
Breaking edges of the cut
Pouring crimson from the wound
A slivered stream of life-blood
Dripping red upon the whiteness
The jagged scratch fills and floods
Unable to contain the flow
Drops spotting on the ground
AB Positive perhaps
Vital to some-one else
Waiting to be staunched
With pads and bandages
And the subtle powers of congealing
Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2012
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