blood runs to the gutters,
flowing and whirling,
a sluicing pink juice
that circles and sloshes
down the drain

most did not feel
the missing blood,
but it came from 
each and every one 
of them -

the locals, the exiled,
the travelers, and
the ne'er-do-wells -

all bled into the city,
and something grew 
from that protein slurry

most contributed only
drips & drops,
but some hemorrhaged,
giving their liquid selves 
for something 
they couldn't 
anticipate