On the bottom of the ocean floor there lives a sponge.
He is a wide mouthed bowl with a bright green sheen.
His species – a narrow one – no known friends are to be seen.
Tasty bacteria he sucks right on in – filtering the ocean – now it’s clean.
By asexual and sexual means multiply he can
Swimming sperm cells released like smoke
Only fertilizing eggs but others to provoke.
Cut-up a sponge – it makes 2 – no joke.
Making glassy needles he himself defends.
Few dare to eat a not so squishy him.
The parrot fish though enjoys his rim.
But when you touch your outlook could be grim.
Don’t go too deep when you go and seek.
Sub-zero to tropics you’ll find him there;
Climate change to him is not a care.
Deep cleaning the ocean from his fair lair.