An experiment

A drop of dye
in a bowl of water
fissures to the edges
like a heavy mist of first kisses
better spent.

The scientist promises there’s a path back,
molecule by molecule,
when the dye only whispered to the water
come closer.
That moment before discovering
there will be
a before and after.

But, you’ll say,
I’ll never find this path.
It’s surely infinite now.
Just look at it,
all churned and muddied.
Years spent bathing and sleeping
in its stain.
You mock me with your research
your conviction.

There’s an experiment,
proclaims the scientist,
and yes, you can try this at home.
Carry the water
with its muck and its taunts
up to the highest point—
the one where people say
they live near
or far from.

Now place it down,
the hardest part is done.
And remember,
you were always the air
its breath
and the sun.
And wait, just see
what happens.


Renee Carson holds an MA in women and gender studies from San Francisco State University where her research focused on disability justice. She tutors under-resourced students in writing and believes that everyone deserves a space to share their stories. Her poems have appeared in Entropy, The Fem, and Rogue Agent.

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