A word so stuttered

Epileptogenesis feels so good
trotting off my tongue like a show pony.

It tosses its syllables so proudly
and canters through my vocabulary.

The word parades, prances ponderously,
and it presents its possibilities.

The development of epilepsy
WOULD roll so trippingly across the lips.

From Mark Morris' "Galactic prominences on the rise"

Our Galaxy's core,
easily observed
by concentrations
of gas from our stars.

Most easily probed
to give us a view
of our stellar home:
Carbon monoxide.

Deadly emission
surveyed many times
to give our thoughts life
by being measured.

Life within

I never liked the color pink
until I saw my anatomy
through the white light of
a Swift microscope.

Lacey bands of amaranth cells,
spotted, like amethyst ink drops,
was lung tissue on
a prepared glass slide.

Bone was a strong wall or fortress
protecting its spongey insides.
Diffuse marrow threads
buttressed the contents.

Cerebral tissue, fat spotted,
glowed with frozen, preserved, stained thoughts.
Wisps of glial cells,
penstrokes of God's art.

Intestinal walls reached for me.
'Come, look at us and our design!'
Grasping finger cells
waving their hello.

Tireless muscles-three flavors
in cardiac, skeletal, smooth-
showed striated bands
and fibrous networks.

Cardiovascular fluids,
blood cells racing through arteries,
city's rush hour
to serve and protect.

All this within my body's depths,
every moment of every day,
ticking like clockwork.
Life: moving, dancing.

The Vet Tech's voice

I am the guardian
of where 'I love you' means goodbye.
I know the pain that's ripping through you,
it's okay to cry.

All their life they have loved you
freely with no condition.
It feels like you're betraying your friend
with this comission.

For years you were blessed with joy
that they can no longer share.
They hurt, it's true, but keep it inside,
hidden in their stare.

The journey's start, so long past
ends in tears in the clinic.
Euthanasia is never easy;
I'm not a cynic.

My tears will wait to fall down.
I'll do my duty to you.
Your friend's life is ending with no pain.
Their trials are through.

I am the guardian
of where 'I love you' means goodbye.
This role is never an easy one;
even vet techs cry.

To a mouse

What bond is this
betwixt you and me?
You live to die in captivity.
What bond is this?

I care for you,
give food and water,
change cages, wean your sons from daughters.
I care for you.

You are a cure
wrapped in paws and fur.
Our science asks and you answer.
You are a cure.

I respect you,
what you represent,
and your tiny death I will lament.
I respect you.

I have no name for you.
You are not a pet.
You are an answer that's not said yet.
I have no name for you.

You are the future
of wellness and health
hidden by nature's canny stealth.
You are the future.

What bond is this
that you and I share?
We are the guardians of welfare.
What bond is this?