They’re everywhere, eight billion strong
Here and there and mostly wrong!
They’ve lost their way midst bits and bytes,
The spawn of punctuational troglodytes!
They sidle up to every “s”
And question, “I should be here? Yes?”
The lonely “s”, a timid letter, thinks
“What the heck? Makes me look better!”
Amidst this proliferative, unholy mess
My eyeballs roll, I must confess
I just don’t get why it’s so dang tough!
(I’ll give you their, there, and they’re if you want it rough!)
Has some new gene surfaced – formerly recessive –
Forcing writers everywhere to adopt the demon possessive?
Parking for Car’s? The sign makes me weep!
Worker’s Wanted/Daytime Hour’s? The world is replete!
They’re everywhere that we don’t want them to be
Keep it simple, sweetie! It’s one tree, and thirty-two TREES!
Upwardly mobile commas spout haphazard elation
Scattered hither and yon with no sane explanation,
Quick! Gather them up for rehabilitation
Return them their dignity! Resist commodification!
Dispossessed and frequently misunderstood,
The apostrophe yearns to be used well (and good)!
Standing in for the missing – as in won’t, don’t, and can’t –
And declaring belonging: Bob’s shirt, Julie’s pants!
That thing is his, hers, or yours, ours, or its –
It’s not inconsequential! It gives some of us fits!
Truth be told, the apostrophe is truly reclusive
She neither clamors for glamour nor the air of exclusive
Her prayer is but this:
Could y’all possibly be just a bit less abusive?
–by Rachel Snyder