Sally Bliumis-Dunn: Biology Lesson

When I looked through 

the microscope, I saw nothing 

but a bright circle 

until I turned the knobs to focus

on the specimen of pond water—

an amoeba, cytoplasm churning 

like liquid sand inside the colorless 

ectoplasm, and smaller paramecia 

swarming. I thought I’d be bored 

looking at the slide but instead 

felt unsettled, as though

something had been taken—

my frequent swims 

at my grandmother’s pond, the warm

slab of granite where I’d lie

on my towel, water beading 

on my arms and legs, 

filled, no doubt, with similar 

tiny creatures. I had always felt 

alone, safe on that rock, away 

from the bickering in the house. 

Maybe a squirrel or rabbit 

in the field grass, the only ones 

near me, all afternoon.

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Copyright 2024 Sally Bliumis-Dunn. First published in Pigeon Pages.

Sally Bliumis-Dunn’s poetry collections include Echolocation (Madhat, 2018). She teaches Modern Poetry and Creative Writing at Manhattanville College, the Personal Essay at the 92nd Street Y and offers manuscript conferences at the Palm Beach Poetry Festival.