Look, this mushroom under a tent of needles and hummus excites you

like the push of any poem sneaks up/pops out from unconscious depths

the thrill, a secret almost revealed, the tug to solve me quick and now

solve this state of captive impatience, do something, force a revelation

you kneel and peep through the little door, a white stemmed poem is coming

your impulse, this tempting, your hands, you must restrain your

reaching to remove its cover, too soon, too soon - your rush to reveal

what is meant to be covered, in its tent, its uncertainty intact

 even though you fear the truth, its beauty, might be doomed

to vanish before it is beheld, you must believe

you cannot make a mushroom happen

All photos and words  copyright Kelly DuMar, 2016