Herbert Nehrlich - Chemistry Lab

Pilshoffer was the name
of our old teacher,
'twas chemistry that made him
what he was and clung to.
Made up of strictly chemicals,
like atoms, molecules
and many, as yet unknown
exotic particles.

The place one would expect
to find his soul had been
completely taken over
by aromatic clusters
of blue aldehydes.
He needed no botox,
as all expression had been
deep-frozen so long ago.


And in his smelly, fizzy,
gurgly, bubbly, yet so punctual life
he smiled just once.
It was just moments
prior to the great event,
when this obedient student
blew up the Lab of Chemistry,
but hadn't meant to, really.

Herbert Nehrlich

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/chemistry-lab/