Crunch Poem by Michael Burch

Crunch
by Michael R. Burch

A cockroach could live nine months on the dried mucus you scrounge from your nose
then fling like seedplants to the slowly greening floor...

You claim to be the advanced life form, but, mon frere,
sometimes as you snatch encrusted kinks of hair from your Leviathan ass
and muse softly on zits, icebergs snap off the Antarctic.

You're an evolutionary quandary, in need of a sacral ganglion
to control your enlarged, contradictory hindquarters:
surely the brain should migrate closer to its primary source of information,
in order to ensure the survival of the species.

Cockroaches thrive on eyeboogers and feces;
their exoskeletons expand and gleam like burnished armor in the presence of uranium.
But your cranium
is not nearly so adaptable.

'Crunch' is a poem about evolution and survival of the fittest which questions where human beings really are the planet earth's most advanced life forms. Keywords/Tags: evolution, global warming, climate change, pollution, insect, insects, cockroach, cockroaches, advance life form, survival of the fittest, adaptability