Toadstools
Croak goes the toad
Ranidaphobia on full
blast
tears well up
self diagnosed and
unmedicated
maybe mushrooms will
help
toadstools be the cause
mushrooms be the cure
that sounds
deliberately ironic
the thought of sharing
the high of nature
isn’t wrong
communing over bread and
butter
but laid in grass
the repentance of inhale
and exhale amplified
sparkling the dark
bright, guided lanterns
fireflies fighting frogs
Mushrooms
Like silent naked monks huddled
around an old tree stump, having
spun themselves in the night
out of thought and nothingness—
And God so pleased with their silence
He grants them teeth and tongues.
Like us.
How long have you been gone?
A child’s hot tears on my bare arms.
No comments:
Post a Comment