I found my inspiration for this poem — as I often do — at The Writer’s Almanac. November 7 was Marie Curie’s birthday, and the biographical details about this scientist got me thinking about women and how we are perceived.
for Marie Curie
Our notes are radioactive
scribbled in radioactive rooms
as we lived radioactive lives —
We are born — We are married — We have children — We work
somewhere else where there
is more freedom than at home —
We learn underground, in secret,
with discarded test tubes — We stir the cauldron
ourselves —
We forget we carry radioactivity in our pockets —
We discover — We inadvertently invent —We donate
our prizes —We do not need awards — the evidence
of our genius is sealed in lead-lined boxes
so no one
will touch —
be transformed
