Overlook

Solitary and blue were the mornings
I drove to the lab, emeried my nails smooth
to adjust the scope and peered at the helical beauties
before Watson and Crick—that base pair—awoke.

That lab should have been mine, not shared
those nights when whispers were sharks
in Oxbridge robes following me
from room to room, closing doors and gates,
turning out all the lights I’d lit.

Out of the lab I was just Rosalind Franklin,
invisible as Moby’s wife, sure of my sound
research, my depth. Who knew I would live
just long enough to see the others crow
over the noble key when I was the one
to breach that confounding secret.

--Quinton Hallett

Note: Local poets Quinton Hallett and Nancy Carol Moody will be reading at Grassroots on Monday, April 26th at 7 PM.