Pink cactus costume wearing bear,
Personal PCR idol,
Totem of laboratory Paganism.
You stand to four legged attention,
Ready to guard,
With your Japanese styled cuteness,
Bristled in darkened spikes,
Inhibitors and foreign DNA,
But I am a scientist,
So you do nothing, but
Lie forgotten in the orange shadows
Of running thermocyclers,
Collecting contaminants and dust.
I wipe you down with seventy-five percent ethanol,
And pack you away,
To another sterile room,
Air thickened by humming machines and
Sweet smelling nucleic acid destroyers.