Darwinian selection operates
through time. A given organism vies
for finite mates and food until it dies,
its name erased unless it procreates.
But if it does, its genome iterates
again within its offspring as each tries
in turn to reproduce. Mutations rise
by chance; each winning one accumulates,
boosting fitness of the total population.
Cycles of repeated, random introduction
of selectable genetic information
by mutation (even boosted by induction)
can’t complete within a single generation.
Evolution presupposes reproduction.

—David Jackson Lohnes
2022

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Notes:

This sonnet started with the final line. It’s Petrarchan in form, although there is no conceptual transition at the end of the octave, only a formal one. Because the final line is trochaic hexameter, I wrote the entire sestet using that meter.

This poem rides the ear hard; it’s not musical or sonorous. I find no sonic or figurative beauty in it. I do see, however, intellectual beauty which, given the stark and unfiltered scientific content, satisfies me.

A poem doesn’t always have to be beautiful, but it should always be true—most of all to the expectations it sets for itself.