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Hematopoesis – a poem

Whoosh … whoosh … whoosh,
Waving my arms,
I pull and push.
Imagining a scene,
That would then result,
In a poem,
Injected  from the occult.

A process,
By which I bleed,
While cupping two hands,
In which I breath,
Praying for purification.

Poetic blood.
Like spit, sweat and semen.
They all flow to beatify a demon,
Wrestling to become once again,
A healed Magdalene.