Love’s a hitchhiker, so innocent in its leap that it doesn’t register torn seats or sunroofs but simply hears come on in and feels that smile like a warm winter breeze,
but relationships are rarely so simple: the car must be washed repaired, replaced and trips planned and changed with the frequency of newborns’ diapers amidst increasing conflict till compromise shatters like a windshield at eighty against a centennial oak
but love, love is not so complicated—once stripped of metal and fuel it shimmers naked, senses open to sky and skunk, blizzards and vistas, and it’s never
blind but radiant as a star and enigmatic as a body after the heart’s final beat.
Thank you to the editors of The Tishman Review for first publishing this poem.
The tech who drew my blood inspired this sculpture.
Lab techs ensure that needed biological matter is obtained to aid in a diagnosis or that a person is well. Techs usually do this with as little pain and stress to each person as possible.
Yet, most often they hear things like I hate needles as they collect blood, feces, urine, sputum, with kindness and compassion despite too little appreciation for how critical their work is, or their skill.
This piece is a thank you for lab techs and other medical personnel.
It started with the disposable tourniquet that I rolled for the arms. The turquoise tourniquet doesn’t show since it’s covered with the purple bandage used to keep gauze in place after my last blood draw. The red heart is bandage from a previous draw.
The yellow dress is the webbing from a bag of lemons while the face and hair are foil that protected a cork.
Since the yellow webbing wasn’t strong enough to support the weight of the head, I used leftover starred gold wire, which led to the title.
The light varies since it came from shafts of sunlight through the trees.
As an avid garage sale seeker once said to me, one person’s garbage is another’s treasure!