A Taste for Blood
June 18 2024
I watch how, eyeless
my plants turn toward the light;
rooted,
yet not only capable of movement
but so exquisitely adept.
And how they were here
long before we appeared,
and will continue to thrive
long after we’re gone.
When we’re as extinct as the dinosaurs;
but our ignominious tenure
having been so much shorter than theirs,
the magnificent lizards
who once bestrode the earth.
So why are they “mine”?
What presumption
entitles me to ownership?
Especially now that I wonder
at the inner life of plants
and the ethic that should govern this.
How to navigate a world
where only light is eaten,
and how a nocturnal creature like me
who scrounges to eat
is entitled to survive.
And then those carnivorous plants,
Frankenstein monsters
that blur the lines of difference
by which we make sense of the world.
What to make of those
who, like us, have a taste for blood?
Who can only survive
by the grace of another;
the taking of life
with nothing given in return?
How Smart Are Plants?
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