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botany
sarah holland-batt
after the rain, we went out in pairs
to hunt the caps that budded at night:
wet handfuls of waxtips and widows,
lawyer's 1, a double-ringed yellow.
we shook them out onto gridded sheets,
the girls more careful than the boys,
pencilled notes on their size and shape,
then levelled a wood-press over their heads.
overnight, they dropped 2 patterns
in dot-and-dash, spindles and asterisks
that stained the page with smoky rings,
blush and 3, coal-dust blooms.
in that slow black snow of spores
i saw a woodcut winter cart and horse
careen off course, the dull crash
of iron and ash, wheels 4.
all day, a smell of 5 hung overhead.
trying to divine the message left
in all those little deaths, the dark, childless stars.
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