Pitch Drop Experiment
Don’t hold your breath, mates.
Good advice in 1927,
the fate of young men
of science, lab coated and gloved, at stake
in the antipodes.
They would have drifted away by ones and
twos leaving one lone
hopeful, transfixed, blue and utterly at
odds with the point of
the thing, Parnell perhaps gently steering
him toward the door and
a life in the faith.
The first drop came eight years on, slowing some,
biding, as one
by one they passed from the scene, Parnell steered
gently, perhaps, to
that big laboratory in the sky.
Despite my woeful
lack of training in the hard sciences
why not pick up the
torch, one lone hopeful, transfixed, breathing in
and out, utterly
lulled, rapt, giddy at the point of the thing.
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