After all these years I will not wear
glasses, there's an elegance to pouring
I lost every mosquito bite
to have been etched clean as glass.
not poisons making themselves beautiful:
mercuric chloride incarnadine.
by the keen meniscus, calculations
I liked that it left you out:
of charcoaled beakers and sulfuric acid
forgetting my clothes, the soles
and bread to lips until that day
Know I am sincere
Lord, if you had been here—
says Socrates, that what we go to
our science loses frequency.
once again returned to ground
Occam says an afterlife
and you, you told me
we are more than bags
That was Introduction to Biochemistry,
"Spill" germinated (decayed?) from the ruby-slipper-like "radioactive shoes" a labmate once kept in her locker, the dosimetry badge I wore clipped to my lab coat like a brooch and Lavinia Greenlaw's poems "The Innocence of Radium" and "A Letter From Marie Curie" (from her wonderful book Night Photograph). The epigraph is from Madame Curie: A Biography (1937) by Eve Curie Labouisse, translated by Vincent Sheean. "Lazarus" echoes Martha's statement to Jesus in John 11:21: "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died."