Cailín Frankland

black bear sighting don’t speak the lord’s name in vain where the fungi can hear us i carry ice cubes across the yard for the orchids from my boy -friend but often wish i could do more for the amanita mushrooms off the abandoned two -track near the bird sanctuary destroying angels that’s what dad’s old friend Ralph Munch called them their gills free white for impurities to easily trickle in onion sack taut through my belt loop so the organs fall out veil hidden of its holy the kind of nudity...