I Did Not Know This Would Come to Blood

given this stopped watch,
I closely examine the hundred broken clouds
passing across its crystal.

the citrus afternoon light
comes to me off the gold tarnished trim
and tiny tapered hands.

it's all I have,
this wanting
to be sufficient.

no one is turned away-
we gather around the hollow dancing wound
and consider the old-time revival dreams
that led us to this black, white, and gray prayer.

now medicine is bitter
and spilled
and relentless in its sharp surgery -
I can't withhold my mind
from the fray, from the unexpected
blues trauma.

steeping the tea, popping the m and m reds and yellows,
this cliche pain
drenches our undaunted band of explorers,
wholesome in tearing off the bandages
altogether now.