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Poetry: Lust & Passion
Root
by Bennett

Not entirely certain
of where my roots are planted,
though mushrooms are only held
to the birch bark of their births
by just a few loose strands of sustainance.
The trees and ferns and thicket alike
must hold some amount of distaste for fungi;
so easy to let go, become removed, from
its place of origin. A birch cannot die
without violence or ailment,
but a surviving mushroom will give its
seed to the wind --
only asking for black coffee
and birthday cake ice cream.

 
 
 
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