Toto

After Marama Salsano’s ‘Bloodwork’

Every few months I fill an inkwell with my blood 
and watch other people start writing with it.
They dip the pointed heads of their pens 
into the jar and draw up just enough
to write a quarterly entry in their notes about me.
I assume they record how my blood works.

One lifts the bottle to inspect the colour
then gently taps the liquid surface with an index finger.
Pressing finger against thumb then apart—a test of viscosity.
Another plunges their pen to the bottom of the glass
then quickly brings it to their mouth for a taste.
Smacking their lips, they start scribbling.

Too acidic?

Too metallic?

Too sweet?

I wait for them to tell me if my blood is working. 
But they never can.
Their senses too dull to interpret data so rich.
And now my blood is at work on them.
Tapu, spreading over hands and tongues. 
Not contaminated. 
Illuminated.
They record what they learn from my blood
and I go on my way, knowing 
I will be back soon enough to give them their next fix.

This is how my blood works.

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Hāwea Apiata (Ngāpuhi, Ngāti Toarangatira, Ngāti Koata) is a Waikato-based writer. He completed an MA at the University of Waikato, focusing on Māori-language literature. He has work in Turbine | Kapohau, The Quick Brown Dog, Poem Atlas, Mayhem, and PŪHIA.