The Golgi Stain

David Epstein

reveals the cells by touching only some percent,

a half of half of one, and how? A mystery,

the mental curtain drawn across to let detail impress and then:

Magician, the knowing that all the rest is there,

not visible, but so. As if one watched a single snowflake

fall that reaching earth became

a foot of snow. As if you saw

a single starling wheeling

about the sky, and the murmuration

absent. And you have assurance they are there,

the thousand wings, can hear them, watch

the branches settle when the flock alights, then lift

as all they go. And finally, that minds connect

across a wavelength you don’t know, as eyes see

but point zero-zero-three of all the light,

and goddesses and gods inhabit realms that feel

like branches of a tree that lift a suddenly

when in those moments you surmise

which is as good as know, that there is much

more out there, more than you can see, as like

behold lover entire by holding but a toe.