Wasn't I proud
to walk into the Blood Bank
wearing my 4-gallon pin?
 
And didn't I carefully
check off the boxes,
pass the iron and
blood pressure tests?
 
And wasn't I noble, lying
down on the chair, a slick stiff
recliner, so willing to give
the O-positive essence
of myself?
 
And wasn't it brave of me,
so the nurse said, repeatedly
digging into my elbow
with what--a crochet hook?
 
And weren't we all jolly,
with our orange juice and Oreos,
hooked to machines and tubes,
saving lives?
 
And was I not piqued then, was I not
vexed, when the nurse
in holiday scrubs let slip
 
the Universal Donor
is O-negative?


© by Leslie Hodge.
Used here with the author's permission.