Love Vine

This is what a god of love
Would say to you, if a god
Of love existed:

“You are not anywhere close
To what I am. I entwine
Myself around the branches

Of oaks I parasitize
And sometimes do my victims
Favors with my small, woody
Suction cups attached to galls

Hiding parasitic wasps
Who die and are mummified
Because my vines are nourished
Even by your parasites.”