A Significant Flare

I can move my body in new serpentine ways, 
swallow a whole meal
to make it reappear again,
bite the hand that feeds me,
smother the ones that can’t
with this new and fascinating body.

My blood is of particular interest to them,
pulled from my arm like a pen stroke
drawn over with small talk.
I feel the certainty leaving me
drop by drop, a libation poured
for the snake and the rod.

I’m worrying about things before they come to term again:
my bones are not crumbling (probably)
and they say eye of newt is just mustard seed–
but one sprouted in my pupil
before I knew it by name.

A “significant” flare, signaling–what?
A shot in the dark? 
Scattered light on a camera lens?
How many trace cells swarming the vein,
a powder in the slit lamp
held to my head,
something that sparks
dangerously
like hope?