erasmus darwin, on the night he refused king george III, & me, aged 14
had nothing in common but a no on the lips, a denial.
ut must have been a usual night, after the lichfield sun set -
erasmus, smelling his georgian herb garden,
would have said no! to himself, & botanic muse
would have carried it to the king.
I said no to things like toothbrush & soap.
Why does not Dr. Darwin come to London, the king asked,
He shall be my physician if he comes, repeating in his usual manner.
I had no interest in the sex life of plants
because that made me cry pimp! at every passing bee.
he introduced stamen & pistil to the english language.
eith increasing stamens the pistil turned
from chaste & blooming to seductive & needing protection.
the darwin family evolved in the myth of concentric circles,
his son, robert, said on not getting out of his house -
every road out of Shrewsbury is associated in my mind
with some painful event. his grandson charles
played two games of backgammon with Emma between
8 & 8:30 every night, ate hawks, bitterns and armadillos
that tasted like ducks but gagged on a meal of brown owl,
that tasted like indescribable.
maybe someone would ask me too with a knock
at my door & I would tell them why. & how
I wouldn't slut-shame pistils in my vignettes,
see them as a tower of their own.
~Ajay
17/12/2019
YOU ARE READING
bliss station ~ poetry
Poesie~ where is your bliss station / you have to try to find it ~
