Chain of Being
Geukensia demissas

The carnivores and predators have top billing,
but in the subtle chain of species, the mussel
of the salt-water marshes invites admiration.
As marsh grasses are swept to sea, decomposing
and filling the water with phosphorus slurries,

our humble mussel begins to work. Three days
pass. The iron-rich phosphorous compounds
have now been filtered, firmly placed in a marl,
to be by mud–feeders released to planktons, who

will spoon feed the fishes whose droppings sustain
the cord grass Spartina, who will again be compelled
to sweep to sea on the rigorous tide, releasing
fresh billows of self-shining phosphorous (from Latin:
torchbearer, bringer of light, the morning star.)

For diligence and distinction in this cycle,
for ceaseless, selfless action over millennia,
what commendation for the quiet mussel?
Constant of the intertidal realm; keeper
of balance for a planet in the Milky Way;

principal in the chain of beings who store
the carbon of civilizations (billions of tons),  
in the deep abyssal floor. Who has done more?
What honor — Palm d’Or, the Nobel, Chevalier —
can we bestow on the mussel of the marshes?

First published in Southwest Review, as “Chain of Species,” and in Ars Poetica, from Peregrine Smith Books; revised 2024
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