Gathering Mushrooms Poem by Kyle Schlicher

it is a damp,
dark
depressing place.

the sun
has no need to shine there.

it requires
no
visitors.

peat moss
and
compost
adorn
the
landscape.

row
after
row

gleaming white

miniature
tombstones

growing in concerned captivity.

old caretaker,
frayed sack in hand
moves
carefully,
joints
creaking
in the dank air.

one
by
one
with
fingers
nimble

he selects

only
those
predestined

to vacant

this
graveyard
growing
in the
putrid pool
of
cimmerian isolation.

(9-21-2015)