The youngest boy ran until he reached the field with the farmhouse.
The person there recognized the trouble,
sent the men to find our father in the woods—
By then, the formed elements and bruises
had already begun to stick and saline & ice
weren’t enough to fill the packed cells—
I know now that women tend to have
less blood but more plasma, water to pass around,
recognition of labor and antibody—
My mother and I spent months scrubbing the
blood from the burlap,
repairing the framework and salts
while I learned the difference between
diaphysis &
epiphysis, when to check the pupils for
reactiveness and trauma,
how to prepare instruments for the autoclave.
The body remembers and even now I can
recall heme in the mouth, the slow-forming
heat of mourning that comes with sudden
incident and having to push it all into
humerus and scapula until the red cells
form as offering, as warmth—