Bloodsuckers

the temple yawns before, doors opening
i speak my codes to clatter of the keys
the movement of her eyes across the screen
(my family line, my name, my history)
in white the woman reads her litany:
"but would you, could you, have you ever been?"
a nod, a shake, a bow, she pierces me
a crimson drop into solution green
acceptable, i find the altar-chair
spread out my arms in love, she binds them there
one quick sharp jab the rush of blood, of me
engulfed in the receiver, swells, complains
the sacred bag to set another free
a portion of my soul in others' veins