You and I
have new blood,
The oxygen we need,
pulled from each breath,
is cradled
in a molecular nest,
and bound in iron:
scarlet Hemoglobin.
But our ancient ancestors,
and the still-living
relics of the copper age,
still hold to
their old ways.
It courses through their veins,
blue
like the patina
on a penny,
that’s seen
better days.
Red blood caught on,
but ours is not the only way.
Our cousins in the deep,
also well-travelled,
use azure Hemocyanin
it still works it’s magic,
just like ours
but matches their lifestyle,
working tirelessly
undaunted by cold,
darkness,
and depth.
Flesh and blood,
follow their own
rhyme and reason,
what falls out of fashion
can often still function,
in the right place,
at the right time
and in the right hands.
The File Pile 