The Perils Of Plant Science Poem by Richard George

'I doubt that's dog's mercury'
said Heather, handing back my ode.
'I'd stick with golden daffodils, if I were you'.
First term at hothouse Kew
and her boyfriend was 'cross-pollinating'.
'I wouldn't treat you like that...'
Conditional. She nodded.

I shared my pangs with a kind
encyclopaedia, which whispered
how the rabbits razed Kerguelen;
hugged its bouquet
across Darwin's bridge, and spilled triumphantly...
'I know all this. By the way,
you confused lichens with liverworts'.