Phytopath

Hey! There’s a fruit in the garden! Shiny, supple, neurotic She grows with quivering vitality Glinty-eyed vampire of the rows She renders the fertile loam A barren concubine Beware the unsuspecting seedling How dare she take root here! Sanctions of soil are harsh indeed Roots wretched in sick haste Twisting Sucking downward Who would suspect The glorious stalkdangler Replete with promise of sweet juice To taint God’s loam With dark pulp Of crawling hate?