Minutiae

in one liminal patch

I find Morchella americana

twenty-two morels

such labyrinthine folds

& Arisaema triphyllum

a jack-in-the-pulpit

its folded-over hood still

hiding its striped interior

they emerge beside

dread invasives — garlic

mustard, dame’s rocket —

the few greens I’m willing

to pull, as if I ruled

this wild, this woods rim

where I heap cat litter

& tissues & egg shells

heaps I hide under

wood chips gleaned

from trees I’ve downed

without me these

two acres would soon

carpet my house

Small Sounds from the Kitchen

I listen three nights

when a creature

not one of the three of us

prowls the dark

until one morning

a scratch, a scrape

becomes my cat

carrying a mouse

the tail dangles

a white neck shines

the cat trots outside

my other cat follows

the end is a different story