Robert DeNiro's Finger

Robert DeNiro’s Finger
by David Macpherson
Out of all blood types
My favorite is the type in movies
The colored corn syrup type.
I like the kind of blood that can
Easily sweeten any glass of iced tea.
The kind of blood that decorated
The Nightmare on Elm Street
When the girl on the bed geysers
Gallons of blood from her belly
Because Robert Englund killed her in dreams.
Or in Taxi Driver
After Robert DeNiro shoots Harvey Keitel
And realizes he ran out of bullets
Before he could kill himself.
So he unholsters his black-red syrup finger
Holds it like a pistol
Puts it to his temple
Blows his brains out
With make-believe artillery
Dressed in make-believe blood.
If you pause your DVD
You will believe in that blood.
It looks clotted.
Not like honey
Or Log Cabin
But clotted like things
That need to be cleaned with bleach.
Martin Scorsese said he darkened the blood
To make it less red
To make it less real
They made it almost black
Like a sugared eclipse
Or diabetic midnight
But with the film lights
And Robert DeNiro’s finger
It looked as it should have
Just don’t put that finger in your mouth
It won’t taste right.
It shouldn’t taste like that.
Whenever I cut myself
Knick my finger
I never put it to my lips
I just don’t want to know.