A novitiate, I scaled to reach The lab, a lofty, high building Invaded by light in illuminating shafts Exposing galaxies of scintillating dust Orbiting in gentle ellipses, The constellation of microscope observatories. Pages of pared down Picasso dove Line diagrams; distilled, drawn cells Deciphered, decoded, demystified My textbook recording the divined Cellular art, aligned, orderly arranged, As intended, naturally, intact. The visitation of my halcyon nursery, Wonder magnified by retrospectoscope, Is dissected, by that learnt construct - Violence. Complex as chaos, too simple In execution. Occam’s Razor Blades tear, slicing, neatly, my learning Disconnected, a silenced syncytium, Destructed myocytes, read: broken heart cells, Hurt, and spill the galaxy of organelles As the inky entropy exits page left My days in the Downing site, intransigent, Did not battle deconstructed anatomy The former form We’ll grieve for later. Firstly we are all the King’s men And, absurdly, I stand again and again At the head of the bed With my forearms stained As if with the ink of crushed berries Papering the crack in my learning And there am I, desperate Sisyphus Yolk seeping between my cradling fingers I turn, and over my shoulder this boulder Of news, to roll over to you. I’m sorry I couldn’t The one that you loved And you, I couldn’t put you together again A vague memory, the pristine Pages of my dissection manual Too gentle to confer more Than, heaven, forbid it, a paper cut My name, in tender tendrils Flowering, naively, bravely Eager hands that held yet no injury And now my anatomy book Bleeds words; bears blue-black ink Bruises, broken spine, cracked covers And, for the life of me, for the life God-knows What gave rise To this deep crevassing gash Or this missing page, torn badly. And my sun-striped laboratory Has been swept by triggered fingers The picture-perfect cytological slides Are cracked; learn them anew. The CT scans hold Hiroshima contrasts The Vitruvian man, now in a foetal cradling, Remains proportionate in reaction. This is a new discipleship, Where by I learn not why society Cares less for life. The cruel, sad savagery, And mirrored lack of love that strikes And gores the wounds we clean, redress Restore the form intended, rise anew.