Unclean

I always watch when my blood is drawn—
focus on my skin pulled taut
and ready for the penetration,
the needle biting into my vein.
I don't look away as the syringe
becomes crimson, choking on me—
that tiny vampire feeding on my sins.

I sometimes imagine needles piercing my heart,
the barrels filing with thick, hot darkness
and leaving me empty—
clean of all desire and bitterness and sorrow and rage.
Clean of all the poison I've injected
into my body and mind and soul.
Cleanliness is next to godliness they say.
And God watches as we draw blood,
vampires that we are.

I sometimes imagine blood pouring from the sky,
every head tilted back, every mouth wide open
and filling to the point of choking.
Every throat scoured of the words caught there—
all the apologies and confessions,
all the unbearable secrets and truths.
Every vampire drowning.

I always watch when my blood is drawn—
watch as ghosts float out of my body
and out of my soul and over my head.
I watch and they watch and God watches.
But what can any of us really see in the darkness?

Lisa Lerma Weber is a wife, mother, and constant dreamer living in San Diego, California. Her work has haunted the pages of Marias at Sampaguitas, Mookychick, Nightingale & Sparrow, Royal Rose, Vamp Cat, and others. Follow her on Twitter @LisaLermaWeber.