She was a kind soft-hearted girl
but as a child, she said, she kept
some stick insects in a tank as pets,
and every morning with a spoon
she carefully crushed their new-laid eggs;
if not, she said, they bred and bred
then fed like wolves upon each other.
A stick insect with missing legs
or abdomen half gone is not
a very pleasant sight, she said.

That breeding tank becomes for me
an allegory of planet Earth,
where we, like them, voraciously
have nearly eaten everything,
earth’s minerals, forests, water, food,
reserves of oil and coal and gas.
Our tank is overcrowded now,
polluted soil, polluted seas, we’ve filled
it with our mess, and have you noticed
how it’s getting hotter here inside?

Perhaps it’s time kind Mother Nature
came, and cleaned us out, or brought
that crushing spoon, but do not fear,
she surely will, and very soon.

Pete Crowther

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-care-and-management-of-stick-insects/