Big Nosebleed [January 22nd | 22/365]

If there really is enough blood in my veins
to make me an ocean, then all that's leaving me
is not the Amazon but only a small pond
hidden in the woods of a small town,
which surely played no small part
in the childhoods of everyone in town,
and which, if recalled in water cooler conversation,
would rekindle old friendships
and hush for a few kind moments
the friction of commerce between the townsfolk,
if only they could see through the thick brush
and notice that the pond has dried up.