Memory of Mother, in the Days before Good Feminine Products

 
They call it fasting
blood sugar— how you're not 

to eat or drink anything 
from midnight, before a sample

is taken for the doctor. The lab
technician comes in and binds

your arm with elastic, then
inserts a needle into your vein.

As the vials fill with crimson,
you think of all the times you tasted

rust in your throat from a nosebleed,
saw poppies bloom in front of your eyes;

the day you clutched your mother's skirt
as a thick line of red flowed down

the inside of her thigh, and she waved
and waved, trying to flag down a taxicab.