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  • Tealight Press

Mushrooms, too, decay by Rick Hollon

Chasing cigarette ghosts

from the bed your mother gave us

baking powder and essential oil

shaken in nightly seance—

a stranger gives me a hundred for it.

I need to eat. You aren’t here.


Milkweed husk and goldenrod

picked that last sunny October

you twined them pod and panicle

autumn ward agrace our window—

you snap the curtain rod

in your haste to be rid of them.


Picturebook yellow raincoats

you bought us a matching pair

to waddle arm in arm in April puddles

ducklings fat on happy plans—

you never even wore yours.

I pitch them in the Dumpster.


Mushrooms, too, decay.

You sketch them, knowing

you and I won’t see them again.


Rick Hollon (they/fey) is an intersex, nonbinary, queer author, editor, nature photographer, and parent currently adrift in the eastern United States. Feir stories and poetry have appeared in Prismatica, Green Ink Poetry, Corvus Magazine, and elsewhere. Find them on Twitter @SailorTheia.

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