Catherine Chandler's Poetry Blog

Tuesday, February 21, 2012


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
attacking jacaranda;
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

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