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Poem: ‘Love Letter from Photograph 51’

Science in meter and verse

Blue artistic image

Science History Images/Alamy Stock Photo

“[c]learly Rosy had to go or be put in
her place.... The thought could not be
avoided that the best home for a feminist
was in another person’s lab.”
   —James D. Watson, The Double Helix (1968)

I am the image, that final clue.
I know only this lab, where light can simmer for days,
coaxing shadows to slowly define
the tiny drop you tip so carefully
onto the end of a twisted paperclip.

The lab, and you, squinting into the lens
of a machine you developed—
hydrogen gas pumped through a salt solution—
on the fulcrum between question and discovery.


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In the lab, the men call you names, mock your clothes,
your moods, your lips, unpainted.

Your delight, your choice of gardenia
is science.

Not on the first but the fifty-first iteration,
I come to you
in the honey of crystallography
amid x-rays splattered off a fiber of wet DNA
like a tadpole on a sliver of glass.

I swim up, rapt, to visibility.
I whisper my secret only to you,
the clue, first word of the organic story.
The ancient code-script
pinned down at last—
The recipe for whale song
and peacock feathers
earlobe and pea plant, X and Y.

I fix my focus in your eyes, Rose Franklin.
I your discovery. You my laureate.

Faith Paulsen writes poetry from her desk at an insurance agency near Philadelphia. Her work appears in Blue Heron, Mania, Poetica Review, Philadelphia Stories, Book of Matches, One Art, Panoply, Thimble, and chapbooks Cyanometer (Finishing Line Press, 2021) and We Marry We Bury We Sing or We Weep (Moonstone Press, 2021).

More by Faith Paulsen
Scientific American Magazine Vol 333 Issue 3This article was published with the title “Love Letter from Photograph 51” in Scientific American Magazine Vol. 333 No. 3 (), p. 77
doi:10.1038/scientificamerican102025-4oU2XM6Ty41gM7w88Q5P2l

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