by J. Tarsier
a doctor
of ecology
at the university
of western
ontario
would like
to know how
monarchs
find their winter
destination––
how it is
millions of orange
and black
wings
flutter once
each year
to a southern point
in central
mexico,
coalescing at
almost a single
tree.
pheromones?
alkaloids embedded
in waxy tissue?
the oaky scent of
eucalyptus?
as a solution
to the problem
he attempted
to derail them
he stuck
the candidate scents
under the skin
of some other tree
in some other forest.
he waited giddily
that fall
in the wrong forest
under the wrong tree
to see what they would do,
a smirk on his face,
as if he had set a booby trap
under the nose
of mother nature
herself.
they flew right over his head.
he says he’ll try again
next year. new schemes, new scents,
there being threats of extinction
to attend to.
as if knowing how
and why and what for
could deter young couples
from migrating
into brand new
suburban homes.
as for me,
i have faith
he’ll never know.
