Fumes
Everyone goes to the harvest –
men, women, and children leave at dawn,
as soon as the fog changes colour.
It’s safer then,
but beyond the stockade,
they still wear masks and gloves.
Except for the woman at the front –
her mouth is free.
She starts the song,
inhaling the shimmer,
and exhaling the melody
some still remember from before.
After the fluorescent glow of the fungi
guides them to the richest furrows,
they line up,
cut off pieces of the mycelium one by one.
By tomorrow, they will have consumed it all –
crushed and smoked, the fungus,
they believed, would let them grow wings.
Michał Choiński teaches literature at the Jagiellonian University (Kraków, Poland). His debut poetry chapbook Gifts Without Wrapping was published by Hedgehog Press in 2019 as a winner of a competition. His poems have been published in magazines in Poland, US, UK, Germany, and in Canada.