Donating a Pint

My blood looks like wine
as it pours from vein to vial,
a fine Pinot Noir
though with better legs.

I’d like a transfusion,
direct from bottle to arm,
bypass my burning stomach,
molten core of misery.

A nice Merlot will lighten
the mix flowing to my brain,
relieving regrets remembered
when I drink too little.

Like the Antichrist, I’m turning
blood into wine, one glass at a time.