A Fecund Ghazal - Poem by Diane Hine
A mucky, unpretentious word like fertilizer
sounds great with a Somerset accent (fertilizer*) .
Most gametes’ lives are as fleeting as firework sparks.
Mother Nature is a profligate fertilizer.
The thrifty, male ‘Zorotypus Impolitus’ louse
needs only one mega-gamete to fertilize ‘er.
Some poems remain intact in the memory. Most
decompose to serve as poetry fertilizer.
Cremation wastes fossil fuel. Bodies buried upright
in cardboard under trees are useful fertilizers.
Decomposing ammonium nitrate yields oxygen
(bang) . Ergo, it’s both a crop and fire fertilizer.
A gardener tells me he smells a floral promise
in sheep manure. I nod and sniff the fertilizer.
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