written by Eileen Walsh Duncan
They appear to be brains on stems, undulate and crouched,
the blooms of a spongy body that lurks underground.
A crude mimic of the real morel, that’s prized for its nutty flavor
and pliant length on a plate. Damp with toxin, the false morel lures
those who lack an eye for detail, who fail to ensure
that delicate pits girdle the cap, signaling safety.