American life in poetry

Katy Giebenhain, an American living in Berlin, depicts a ritual that many diabetics undergo several times per day: testing one’s blood sugar.

The poet shows us new ways of looking at what can be an uncomfortable chore by comparing it to other things: tapping trees for syrup, checking oil levels in a car, milking a cow.

Glucose Self-Monitoring

A stabbing in miniature, it is,

a tiny crime,

my own blood parceled

drop by drop and set

on the flickering tongue

of this machine.

It is the spout-punching of trees

for syrup new and smooth

and sweeter

than nature ever intended.

It is Sleeping Beauty’s curse

and fascination.

It is the dipstick measuring of oil

from the Buick’s throat,

the necessary maintenance.

It is every vampire movie ever made.

Hand, my martyr without lips,

my quiet cow.

I’ll milk your fingertips

for all they’re worth.

For what they’re worth.

Something like a harvest, it is,

a tiny crime.