Bethany BrookshireTerrible PoetryComments are off for this post

I. the lab’s dismal air
mourning your unborn paper
alas, you’ve been scooped
II. lab mates crowd around
printed copies fly like birds
try to find a flaw
III. your data can’t die
publish you must, or perish
find a new angle

Bethany Brookshire

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