Granddaddy Darwin’s delight
in the vegetable economy—
the best of garden conceits
clotted with sexuality:
flower love like gunpowder!
The nectary, the wall-bee,
“the depredations of insects.”
Insects by acquisition.
Personified of leaf and calyx-
cup, the very pink by agency
in flourish framed of filigree,
pomp and whimsy.
Apology: where this leggy
golden creeping Charlie
is yet looking for a ground,
I take my breath.
A breath turn from arriving
to climactic flowers, or soaring
arias and other seeds broadcast
by wind or caprice.
Each tree with its genesis
of a another dendrite;
there is no nourishment
without appetite;
these vegetables pose
terms for other vegetables
in love song, sonorous
and amorous:
bug song, clematis, trellis.
How does the insect know?
I’m crowded with citrus,
palms and sugarcane.
Seeds in seeds, and plums
and plums. Sweet William!
Oillet! I’ll be your auditor
of flower. We nurserymen!