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 Review, Rattle, 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.