Biology

[TrevorConway]

I knew the fascination of Darwin,

spreading my book in a Sligo classroom.

The damp-aired prefab bred spores of perspective,

to peer into life on another level:

 

the functional porridge of a cell,

neurons, chlorophyll, unravelling DNA.

I developed a fondness for liver fluke,

an admiration, even.

 

Earthworms and grass were rich cousins;

enzymes and equations hid in my breath.

And how could I ever have imagined

the humble beginnings of the horse?

 

We had forty-five minutes – no more –

to ivy our brains over these pages

that curled to soft edges, frescoed with ink,

the cryptic or crude remarks of previous owners.

 

Biology uncled an explanation

juicier than any religion.

We blindly accepted its facts,

knowing them as the fruits of study.

 

And yet, we sat through religion lessons,

where vague principles hung like murky pond scum,

while the sonnets and acts of an English class

led me to the cleanest page.

 

Where’s that book now?

Wrapped in the recesses

of a canvas schoolbag,

tattooed with someone else’s thoughts?

 

On its pages, fossils of a former me remain

in inky bruises and hollow phrases.

They’d fascinate me now

more than any creature.


Thanks for any feedback ye can give, whether specific or just an overall sense of how much you did or didn't like the poem. (I can take negative feedback, and I'm used to dumping some poems that don't quite make the grade even after editing.) Pointing out any parts that are confusing or too vague would also be very helpful. Thanks very much. Trevor]