Pollinators, far from home without a flower,
jirt were shocked to see the sexual parts
of plants displayed in rooms.
These tiny Earth-blooms hold themselves cheap,
flaunting their stamens and wafting
wanton scent to any nose
when decent flora chose which pollinator
to loosen for, shadchan to distant genes.
Only a pervert would
deflower a reluctant bud. Who can forget
the wooing of their first blossom,
that tender moment when
the chosen jirt exchanges pollen
for the intoxicating nectar
of a yielding bloom?
A flower costume and cheap cologne
does the trick. Don’t forget the gripe-water treat.
And get checked for hay fever.
David Barber lives anonymously in the UK. He used to be a scientist, though he is retired now and writing stories. He is a puzzle to his friends.
Devilfish Review 