Three Poems by Clayton Arble

Mushrooms

1.

On a warm spring
morning after
days of rain,
pale, shining
mushrooms slide
back into black
dirt—into
earthworms and
cold soil,
blind roots and spring rain—

2.

and return to the darkness
our bones know—the bones
of the ancestors
who gave us our ancient
bodies⁠—

3.

pale, shining bones
silent in the darkness
of the daylight of our flesh.


Trying to Meditate

1.

A blue leaf falls
across my face.

What does it have
to do with me?

2.

Each leaf curls
into itself,

the shape of a cry
my body craves.

3.

I watch each thought
blossom and wilt.

I let the black leaf
cry.


After Meditating

I lie back
down in the grass

breathing
in the fresh

smell of dirt. my
skin filling up

with sunlight.
my whole body

becoming the touch
of a stranger.


Clayton Arble is a poet from the Pioneer Valley of Western Massachusetts.

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