Glen Sorestad – 2 poems

Blood Test, 7:00 a.m.



Rising from the warmth of a duvet to face a blood test,

before morning’s first coffee can pass your lips,


or the least morsel of food can boost your world,

before the show-off sun shakes up the eastern sky,


is not recommended for rational mortals. But here I am,

early morning, queued up outside the still-locked clinic,


with a motley of coffee-deprived grumps outside the door,

waiting for the lock to unbolt, opening the dam to a flood


of fasters, whose only non-violent thoughts are to get

inside, quick-bleed the demanded vials, then bolt back


home to an aromatic welcome of fresh-brewed coffee,

earthy toast, a favored cup, waiting with the daily paper.




Halo in the Casino



The Vegas slot machine generously generated

a fifty-dollar return on my twenty-dollar investment

in the ongoing welfare of the state of Nevada,


not to mention the unseen owners of this smoke-infested

emporium of electronic din. I pushed CASH, figuring

I’d recoup my original twenty, then play a bit longer,


courtesy of the casino’s largesse. When the machine

dutifully dealt my cash voucher, I tucked it away

for safe-keeping into my shirt pocket to redeem later.


I continued playing. A short time later, my wife

inquired from the adjacent machine, “Did you notice

that drunk young guy? The one who staggered against


our chairs?” But I hadn’t seen the guy at all – rapt

in the distracting cacophony and ceaseless movement

of the human zoo surrounding us. Hordes of them,


moving, sitting, standing wherever they could.

I would have gone right back to spinning reels,

except that’s the precise moment I noticed


my empty shirt pocket. I stared. I looked down

at my feet, scoured the floor around our machines.

I ‘d had a flashing neon bozo-halo over my head,


a red arrow pointing to my shirt pocket. Picked

and plucked. By a drunk who wasn’t.  Feel free,

dear reader, to write and add your own moral here.






Glen Sorestad is a much published and translated Canadian poet who lives in Saskatoon. His poems travel more widely and more often than he does.

By Heavenly Flower Publishing

Bindweed Magazine publishes two anthologies each year: Midsummer Madness and Winter Wonderland. Bindweed is run as a not for profit, labour of love endeavour by an author/poet couple: Leilanie Stewart and Joseph Robert. Bindweed can be found at

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