“The Mushroom Pickers” by Lawrence Blake
Poetry Pause is the League of Canadian Poets' daily poetry dispatch. Read "The Mushroom Pickers" by Lawrence Blake, part of the League's Fresh Voices program.
The Mushroom Pickers
By Lawrence Blake
The first three fingers grasp the stalk
and twist a quarter turn against the sun
to pluck the fungus from well-seasoned sod
rubbed by boots and running with rain.
Through the window of an old car I see them
bobbing up and down along the brush, dozens
stooping and lurching at the border of my path.
Singing in tongues, leaning in prayer to the earth.
Their baskets heavy, stuffed with flat-caps and stalks,
along with wet dirt that clings to fleshy stumps.
I drive on past the mushroom pickers, up to a border
where soldiers stack bags of soil and string wire.
Stooping, bobbing, as their spades cut the turf;
these almost-children scanning dulled eyes to the north.
There’s no music here, just a distant snapping
of artillery coughing. A barking of some promise
that the percussion here will join with singing.
And days go by. I return south from that post
to witness the same convocation of bowed,
lurching, heads picking mushrooms at dawn.
Whispering to their forest in song. Three fingers
clenched to twist fungus out the sod. Communing
with the mud that their brothers and sisters quietly
slit into trenches just up the Chernihiv-bound road.
Copyright © Lawrence Blake
Lawrence Blake is a writer from Canada. A member of the Canadian Armed Forces, he has seen service throughout Canada, Ukraine, Iraq, and long term care facilities during the COVID pandemic. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in a variety of spaces.
Fresh Voices is a publication and workshop program created by and for the League's associate members, curated and edited by Erin Vance.
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