Acute Epistaxis

To stop a nosebleed, 

you can’t hold your head back. 

You bury your ears in hemophilia, 

and I know it’s your first-grade choir concert, 

but you stain the stage red, 

protesting the black clog

that’ll hit you behind the tonsils.  

To stop a nosebleed, 

you run a rag 

under quick bursts of ice, 

and you sit on the toilet seat, 

clutching your knee. 

You can’t stop a nosebleed

when you learned to sneeze

from your aunt

whose vodka, reality TV denial

is only broken by blood vessels.  

You can’t stop a nosebleed

when the janitor walks in and says, 

“Jesus Christ, girl, 

tilt your head back.”