Shy Friends


I am making
shy friends with the
mushrooms that feed in the black and
thrive on decay, turning
up overnight from some
alien host.

Walking through the wet midnight,
I check under leaves. Wavy
chocolate colored morsels
are sent by the gods
for the mortals below.
Apple red fruits grow
between rocks, waiting patiently for
Snow White.

Sometimes they glow in the dark;
poisonous orbs, pale yellow bubbles like
tiny snow drops covered with gold,
purple colored brains free of thought,
shiny white nipples waiting
to be eaten.

The way they make their entrance,
leaning into the rain and oozing mystery,
you can tell we grew up out of
the same unknown.