The Morels – by Marilyn Kallet

They were a neighborhood
family of mushrooms

living right down by
the side of the house.

I would have trampled
them, but my ecologist

spouse tenderly
brought them in,

cleaned, then
fried them in butter

and Sauvignon Fumé.
A heady smell arose,

woodsy flavors
emerged from the pan.

Those knobby ones
urged me to taste

more. Sure, we’re
cloistered, closed in,

but the morels
made me see that Freud

wasn’t wrong. I mean,
look at them, poking up

out of the ground
like that.

Image credit: Painting by Christopher William Pell inspired by the Marilyn Kallet poem, “The Morels”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *