Phytopath
Hey! There’s a fruit in the garden!
Shiny, supple, neurotic
She grows with quivering vitality
Glinty-eyed vampire of the rows
She renders the fertile loam
A barren concubine
Beware the unsuspecting seedling
How dare she take root here!
Sanctions of soil are harsh indeed
Roots wretched in sick haste
Twisting
Sucking downward
Who would suspect
The glorious stalkdangler
Replete with promise of sweet juice
To taint God’s loam
With dark pulp
Of crawling hate?
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