From the LabLit science verse series

Robert Dawson 16 October 2011

By midnight light of a twenty-eight inch screen
lab-coats identical                 hair ponytailed back
the three women like sisters toil together.
Dancing fingers on the conjuring keyboards
spin              refold                 snip
an effigy of a deformed protein.

One has dreamed of a Nobel Prize since she wore
her sixth-grade science fair medal to bed.
Stockholm’s resplendence whispers in the air.

The second tweaks an alpha helix.
                                                   Levinfire flickers
along neuronal paths well used at chess,
frontal lobe to occipital lobe to pleasure center.

The lips of the third soundlessly rehearse
a thousandth time, words from a storybook:
You killed my father.
                                                   Prepare to die.