Lanky summer afternoons
cough up mushrooms so toxic
that touching one is fatal.
Yet you dice them into a salad
and eat with no ill effect.
You goddess-types enjoy mocking
the mortal parts of us males,
but this meal is going too far.
The weather map features storms,
west of us, blotched purple and red.
If they get this far, the lightning
will flatter you in dimensions
so cosmic even galaxies
two billion light-years distant
will have to concede your excellence
two billion years in the future.
For now, watching you gobble
your poisonous mushroom salad,
I suspect you hope I’ll claim
a comparable status and eat
a plateful and amuse you with
the destruction of my liver. No
thank you. A cicada saws
the light into tempting slices
that aren’t very nourishing. Enjoy
yourself while I wander alone
through the woods in search of edible
specimens for my own salad -
gnats and mosquitoes whirling
about me, the crack of my footfall
assuring me that so far
I’ve survived your deadly wit.
© William Doreski 2010
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William Doreski’s work has appeared in many print and electronic journals, and his most recent collection is Another Ice Age (AA Press, 2007). He teaches writing and literature at Keene State College (New Hampshire).
William Doreski’s work has appeared in many print and electronic journals, and his most recent collection is Another Ice Age (AA Press, 2007). He teaches writing and literature at Keene State College (New Hampshire).
