Mycelium Under the Canopy

by Brooke Nind

Under the canopy we planted trees and mushrooms—
the mushrooms sang, nutrients pooling
around them, humus darkening in delight.

Under the canopy the trees and mushrooms worked
in tandem, pushing water through the dirt,
underground transportation.

Under the canopy the mushrooms bore fruit,
bore our burdens, bore everything.

Under the canopy we cut open our houses,
found mushrooms, rolled them in our palms.

Under the canopy we dug a ditch, clawed
into the earth and found mycelium, dipped
our fingers into cleansed water.

Under the canopy we cried over oil spills,
sent mushrooms to the shore to absorb
the chemical pains of the thickened waters.

Under the canopy we dreamed of mushrooms,
grown thick and fluffy like marshmallows – they latched
onto our worries, decomposing them while we slept.