Steep tracts of dry earth occasionally perplexed by roots
Proceed up the aisles of perpendicular cathedrals.
Bundled pillars of bamboo admit onto chapels of
The unkempt wild banana, larger than a mammoth by
Comparison to its pip-less and domesticated
Cousins. Blanched husks, both Saxon and Norman,
Vie with massive leaves for light’s attention.
Greenly broken leaves get repaired here
With a maze of golden seams as you get in Fittonia.
Lancet poison dart plants, bambino arrows and
A foliage plant named Bogner spring up under
Fronds raped by liana – which is spiralled by
Its own far younger strings. The rectilinear kapok
Soars up from its buttresses for vertiginous feet,
Breaking into orange powder right at the summit
Underneath the summit just above it: orange
As the domesticated cur seen near roadside stalls
Coloured the same as the feral dohle that terrorise
The hinds and their fawns at the wallow. It’s tricky for
Plantations here, when wild originals contaminate
The heifer versions of themselves with their rampant
Savagery. Monkeys, birds and insects can’t be taught that
Trespass is an offence. They smuggle in the holy
Spirits of the ancient breeds, just as the powerful cult
Of the child who will do one’s bidding generates
Rows kept without official sanction in the abbot’s audience room.
It’s thus that your banana eunuchs suddenly begin
To procreate. Crops castrated for the market
Unpeel auspiciously, only to be found with those unpalatable pips
Even the monkeys spit out and elephants shit.
Not quite as bad as the custard apple though
Enough to deter the Western appetite. You have to go
Back to the Bone Age, when there were wolves but
No Alsatians, when the poison arrow plant
Was still distilled for its point, the time of antler tines,
To worship at the waterfall’s chasm-haunted wat.