In nineteen and sixty-two,
heads that were filled with sharp numbers, formulas,
an abundance of calculated self confidence,
violent theories that confuse every molecule of my doe-eyed poems,
gathered themselves in a tight-locked room,
to discuss the inner workings, the strands of information,
the fundamentals of all organisms, the incredibly humane
genetic material that created Rosalind Franklin,
the distinctive characteristics allowing her
delicacy, dignity, a dreamy doe-eyed gaze
and a pretty little head filled with numbers,
and as she twisted and turned in her grave,
the ever-expanding egos belonging to
the men made up of “the stronger stuff”
sold away the “winding staircase” of Rosalind’s mind
“Nineteen and sixty-two”
my seventh grade science teacher repeats.
And the boy who blocks my view
with his head filled with numbers,
scribbles “Watson and Crick” in his notes,
He believes the answer to be black and white,
And yet, he does not know.
He will not try to.
About the Creator
Jahnney Cantrell
Hello! My name is pronounced like 'Johnny' and I am a writer. This year I'm trying to write more and worry less, so I'll be posting here and keeping a positive attitude! Thanks for reading my writing!
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“Can I Get You Anything Else, Sir?”
“Can I get you anything else, Sir?” Every night I ask the question and receive a similar answer, ‘Just the check’, or ‘No, that’s all’ accompanied with a falsely sincere smile and a bitingly pleasant tone. I’ll retreat to the kitchen and find a nook in back stock to check my grades, pray that my electricity bill is affordable this month, or listen to the overexaggerated stories of nightly bar crawls the line cooks loudly trade. While these moments of rest in nearly twelve hour shifts are partially for my own benefit, the couple on their anniversary dinner receive some solace in my absence as well. Apparently, the general duties of my job, such as checking in and “everything alright over here folks?”, can come off as pushy. Not to mention my stained apron and disheveled ponytail after chasing down salt shakers and appetizers may put a slight damper on their evening. I suppose when you’re only eating half of a 60$ filet, simply because you can afford to, the sight of a server’s fraying black notebook and slacks with tiny holes could cause discomfort.
By Jahnney Cantrell5 years ago in Journal
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