Ode to the Lab
The most important room in the world is angry.
Fluorescents burn the irises,
Stark white, like this:
The stench of luria broth,
An assault of agar and water,
The flatulence of discovery.
We are clean,
Purified,
Antiseptic,
Disinfected,
Even the air tastes severe,
Like rubbing alcohol and sterilized death.
But from the decay of bacteria springs life.
The freeze of the minus 80,
The whir of the centrifuge, a tornado,
A sharp intake of breath,
A whirlwind of discoveries.
Science is an angry monster,
Advancing slowly but surely,
One that cannot be contained.