Poetry for George Washington Carver

George Washington Carver

By Neal Bowers

Incredibly small in his black walnut case,

he might be a doll or a marionette

with a button on the side to activate him,

to let him finish that beginning smile

and offer everyone the peanut

he holds up like a talisman.

Sprawled around the lobby

of the building named for him,

not even those students dozing

over history and science

can match his sweet serenity.

In his face is an enormous patience.

To look at him, you must look through

your own reflection in the glass,

your thin immensity clouding this guide

who waits to lead you through a little door

into a world where no life is common

and every atom is a sun.