After my blood’s drawn,
I need food and drink,
but pause at art
in the hospital lobby;
none of these paintings
are of blood,
though one has deep red.
a few cubists,
some colorful landscapes,
nearby a sign:
Blood Drawing This Way>>>
In the cafeteria over coffee and eggs,
I look around,
some healthier than others,
blood still flows,
maybe at higher pressure—
weather news on TV—
high pressure here,
another tropical low with hurricanes
brewing in the Caribbean,
Saint Thomas and Barbuda already
blown apart in Hurricane Irma,
landscape denuded, houses flattened.
I’m reminded of Derek Walcott’s
Caribbean landscapes;
Beach at Vieux Fort,
what will happen to his Saint Lucia
if the next hurricane hits there?
Islands’ lifeblood blown away,
because money mattered
more than global warming.
That storm blew nonstop
three days and nights.
Somebody may paint it one day,
but will it have
Walcott’s reds, greens, tropical blues?
What if tomorrow,
in this hospital with its gallery and cafeteria,
there were no art, money, food, blood,
electricity, surgery?
So many wars and storms now,
we may say it won’t happen here,
it happens where they
said it couldn’t possibly—
It’s hard to tell the difference
between paint and blood,
present and future—
I go back to the art exhibit,
looking for reality.
George Longenecker’s poems, stories and book reviews have been published in Bryant Literary Review, Evening Street Review, Rain Taxi, Asimov’s Science Fiction, Best Short Stories from the Saturday Evening Post Great American Fiction Contest and The Mountain Troubadour. His book Star Route was published by Main Street Rag.
