Chapter 110: Poetry – Blood Lady

WRITING

This is a quick little poem I was compelled to write. I’ve just been for a checkup and as I walked to an impromptu blood test – the woes and worries of the world had a field day in my head. But the second I saw the Blood lady tapping away on her ipad, playing a quick round of candy crush whilst waiting for her next patient – all that ridiculous anxiety disappeared.

Ironically, Blood lady has the same name I called every one of my dolls as a child and one of my all time favourite Brady Bunch characters. However, she is far from that groovy little lisping pigtailed cutie or any of my seventies Barbies.

This woman is a quietly spoken warrior with an awesome backlog of stories and a devilish twinkle in her eye when she relays them. I’ve visited her tucked-away-corner in every state imaginable. No matter the circumstances from sorrowful, to standard, to a sick looking plague monster – she has been a comforting presence every time.

It’s not until I’m having blood drained that these memories between we two return. So I thought I’d immortalise her before her lovely vibes are replaced with dog shit, kids complaints and all the sweet vibe overrides of realty.

Blood lady

bold white hair

kind warm smile

jab so gentle

talk awhile

tells me all

i need to hear

of her bolder life

void of fear

once a plumber

in era of scorn

female tradie?

 lesbian-sex-fiend

addicted to porn

she quietly giggles

as i beam at her tale

doc martin phlebotomist

married a

“women should only wear heals“

kind of male

candy crushes in breaks

no fuss nor ceremony

crushes in real life

 only 39 – hysterectomy

while i frizzle frazzle

a panicky frenzy

she soothingly shares

a life worthy of envy

empathetic smile

through checkups and tragedy

I am in awe every time

of this walk-her-talk majesty.