Minor Meats by Billy Lezra The right one weighs 568 grams, the left one, 547, over two pounds off my chest. For five days, two tubes drain the incisions. Ruby, then amber, fluids pool into translucent bulbs pinned to my white compression vest. It’s Christmas.  I am the tree; the blood bulbs, ornaments.  Inside the bulbs my red blood cells are shaped like marbles, tiny spheres. The name of this condition is hereditary spherocytosis, which means I got these marbles from my mother, a hematological heirloom. Behind our upper left ribcage, our spleens destroyed these marbles and made us anemic, jaundiced, low iron, high platelet. My mother’s spleen was six years old when it was removed; mine was 13.  The night before my splenectomy, she ran me a hot bath and massaged my legs with lavender lotion. When you wake up you won’t be able to see or move for about 30 minutes, she said. But you will be able to hear. The surgery lasted four hours.…