Fungal waterways

For dverse.


House sits within its moat of rain water
where the salamander lives
and running grass green
and the cowshed where the toad
swims under the door
and the veil of raindrops dripping
from the eaves dripping in the attic
and inside the windows
and the places where it bubbles
up through the floor.

House sits full of the smell of water
cool and cold and we listen
to the patter on glass the rattle
down chimneys feel the stones slip
into some other world of water
and watery things.

Night is deep and well-dark
ditch-full of rain and the crow wind
and when the light returns
in the grass running down the green path
water-running will be the ragged
ghostly procession of white agaric
water-gorged and tasteless.

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Helvella crispa

Photo ©Pamela Gardiner

554px-Helvella_crispa_in_woodland_in_Dorset

Helvella crispa,

I saw you and your crumpled kin

among the wet oak leaves,

the slippery brown blanket

where the spring is warming,

cap tinged with oak juice,

roussâtre, rotten orange,

with twisted vermoulu stem,

lying bent and bone-pale,

resplendent in your slug-sucked

horror.

Are such things meant to be?

Such toxic abomination?

At least you are content to be,

you do not want

to rule

the world.