The Last Word
I never saw a zyzzyva,
its habitat sub-tropic;
but I’ve been told it’s beastly, bold,
its mercies microscopic.
It spends its days in baneful ways
devouring field and garden;
you can be sure this epicure
won’t beg the palm tree’s pardon.
With frightful mien, it can be seen
it loves to chew on new bamboo –
a match for any panda.
It has a greed for guava seed,
for pepper and papaya;
an orchid shoot will always suit
this ravenous pariah.
No Hall of Fame displays its name,
no Air Miles Plan rewards it;
and Webster thinks the weevil stinks,
but, in the end, records it.
© Catherine Chandler. First publishesd in Umbrella, Spring 2007