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Blood Bank
a poem about the blood bank
It’s all the same to her
A positive, B negative, O
The plastic bags of plasma
Stacked like bricks
So many in, so many out
As long as the necessary forms
Are completed and filed.
She runs a clean department
No insurrection among the staff
No stacks of work neglected
No mislabeled stickers.
She keeps the place quiet too
As if blood and blood products shiver
From the vibrations of rap
Or lose fluidity under the influence of Bach
Or grow thick from the electronic
Clatter of PCs and scanners.
She’ll be retiring soon. She’s
Already counting the months
Like the frugal count their savings.
If you ask how long she’s been here
Among the red and waiting silences
Too long, she’ll say. Too long.
__________
Copyright 2019 Marguerite Floyd all rights reserved
This poem first appeared in The American Journal of Nursing, June 2008
