Mushroom cloud my feelings into pixelated seams
these words sew the pages together, like stiches
closing a wound. I’ve never had stiches but
I can use a metaphor because the Internet told me
I could do anything.
Just like my mom and the gold sticker
still attached to the underside of my
underwear drawer.
There’s a mushroom on my front lawn
that the rabbits refuse to eat. I kick
it over and spread the spores.
I’ve accepted defeat.
Since the horseflowers came,
and you left,
I’ve made friends with the worms.
Did you know that two halves
make not one but two wholes?
Hermaphrodites with no spines.
I think, God is amazing,
and then regret it.
What if he heard me and started
checking up on other aspects
of my life?
I don’t want him to see me
crawl on my belly to you,
a snake I am, a worm.
the mushroom on my lawn
has a family now, smaller
button heads crowning from
the tall grass.
