We are of science,
You and I

Paint and brush
Pen and paper
Lute and sweet tenor,

We favored these
In the tender,
candy-flavored blush of springtime
When we were artists
And marvelous color trailed in our wake and pooled in our footsteps,

Ecstatic synesthesia
decorating the early hours of our
long day’s journey into night.

But we.

We are of science,
You and I

Excavators and archeologists in sacred pursuit,
Brushing the earth from a shard swept into the depths,
Ah, see, here is treasure
Here is proof.

Turn yourself inside out for me
That I may count your rings
Remove your backing
That I may marvel at your machinery

If this love is a song
It is also a tree
- roots and seeds
It is also a pocket watch
- sturdy and intentional
It is also a gravesite
- stardust and mosaics of broken bones,
patient,
silent,
Awaiting the hands of an artist to
knit them back together.

But we.

We are of science,
You and I.

Paint and brush
Pen and paper
Lute and sweet tenor,
We favored these
When we were artists.

Ah, see.

Here is treasure.
Here is proof.