notdeermag
Hebeloma, Adam Kamerer
CW: death
Wake and walk the white mist,
the dawn fog, the breath
of moss and bark.
Listen to the birds
holding their breaths.
Wake and walk
past the lonesome:
the long-leaf pine,
broken at its neck,
fountained with hard chips
of yellow rosin
spilling from its throat
and find in the hollow
of its rotted hips
the white grin
of an old skunk's skull
and a council of death:
five tiny men
with round white crowns,
kings who gnaw
the remains of a breath
the remains of a body.
Wake and walk the white way
home, the fog, the breath
of fungal ghosting,
contemplate being
devoured this way
when you become
a white grin too,
if a city of death
will spore out of you
and eat you up.
Adam Kamerer is always getting lost in the woods. His poems have appeared in Anatomy & Etymology, Borderline, and Four And Twenty. He has authored two poetry collections: Bone Fragments and Ventricle, Atrium, credited as Gabriel Gadfly. Read more of his poetry at http://adamkamerer.com.