He looked for signs of lactose-eating enzymes

In bugs—his living bags of DNA.

Eaten lactose turns to acid, turns dyes

Blue if genes are joined in useful ways.

He submerged in sterile broth bacteria,

And searched each day on petris for blue cells

That promised DNA inserts in sheared

Plasmids, electrons pulled aside on gels,

Each hour for a different brown bag bench

Where blossom towers climbed in white cascades,

Nor reached a time when gel by gel entrenched

In mind the aspects of the spots of shades

Of evergreens; each noon fresh printed on his sense

New DNAs, in lab—on gel and naked—

Or feathered; brown heads hopped to peck at rent,

Scavenged peanut butter crumbs, and braced

The sagging corners of his eyes and lips.

Wrens drank the damp from earth his eyes turned toward;

In lab, his salt-blued broth beneath eyes lit

By foreseen apple, snake and flaming sword.

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