The Morel Hunter


Ardent Platonist, the perfect shape

floats in her mind: goad, intoxicant.


It will be hidden, naturally, as 

treasures are. Partly obscured—

dominant trait of anything priceless.

Perhaps patiently biding its time

by a rotting log, sweet honeycombed

head rudely crowned with mold

dotted, damp Oak-Hickory leaves.


 Will the light be falling on it or not.

When she finds it, her wrist might flutter—

strange palsies briefly tremor her right

foot. And then—quiet. Only quiet.


To the wood again! she cries in great

weariness, love, and pain. It must

be there, waiting, stomach distended

by bloat and love under the trees.


Jenn Blair is from Yakima, WA. Her work has appeared in Berkley Poetry ReviewRattle, New South, Superstition Review, Adirondack Review, the South Carolina Review, and James Dickey Review among others. Her chapbook The Sheep Stealer is out from Hyacinth Girl Press.