Incompatible
Mixture
1998
I
tried dancing with xylose, so nimble and sweet,
But
she left me with nothing but two aching feet.
I
tangoed with hexane before going to bed,
But
her perfume left me light in the head.
Trimethylbiphosphomercaptophenol
Allowed
me one two-step and then fled the hall.
“Go
figure,” I said, as ketones and pentoses
Turned
their backs to me while raising their noses,
“I
love chemistry and
dance. What’s wrong with this picture?”
My
lab partner just said, “Incompatible mixture."
(I'll help with interpreting this one:
- xylose is a sugar with a cool name
- I have been sensitized to hexane, so while most people don't like the smell but just forget it once the fumes have been cleared, I get headaches from this relatively innocuous organic solvent
- The next chemical was made up to match the meter and rhyme, although it probably could be synthesized
- ketones and pentoses are just two more classes of organic molecules
That's really all there is to this poem.)
The two sonnets that follow have a lot more subtle references to toddlerhood (and anemia) and science, particularly basic things you are taught in physics classes when you start studying electrons.
To
my niece in her second year
1998
You
smile and laugh and flash that lively glint
That
melts the rocks your lips do kiss. Yet should
You
slip, to the complacent crowds, some hint
Of
your true self, you’d not be understood.
You
crave to sink your teeth into a book—
Were
I to tell the crowds as much, unfazed,
Their
smiles would say, “How nice,” and overlook
The
import of your most inhuman taste—
But
I know. No, I do not know the tide
Or
moon that makes you so, or what sweet wine
May
flow within your veins, yet love will hide
My
fear of all that’s strange—Oh, Caroline.
No,
never will I let them halt your growth—
Your
secret’s safe, my chemolithotroph.
To
an electron in spring
2000
Now
tell me, will I ever see you spin
on
stage alone? Yet even if my clum-
sy
eyes could see so fine would my mind numb
with
trying to comprehend your nimble spin
in
“circles,” up and down and only half
way
round? John Henry dug great tunnels through
the
earth so we might follow. Tunneling through
much
steeper walls you leave no signs of hav-
ing
passed and lead me nowhere. Left alone
I
wonder where you’ve gone and where you are
but
I will never know so much. You’re far
too
private, too elusive to be known.
Although
your coyness mocks my mind and heart,
without
you near my life would fly apart.
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