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Gathering Mushrooms

Rating: 2.9

The rain comes flapping through the yard
like a tablecloth that she hand-embroidered.
My mother has left it on the line.
It is sodden with rain.
The mushroom shed is windowless, wide,
its high-stacked wooden trays
hosed down with formaldehyde.
And my father has opened the gates of Troy
to that first load of horse manure.
Barley straw. Gypsum. Dried blood. Ammonia.

Wagon after wagon
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Andrea Holland 01 February 2018

The title is incorrect - This is not the poem Milkweed and Monarch! This is Gathering Mushrooms - also by Muldoon.

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William Keckler 29 December 2005

I think whoever posted these poems by Muldoon switched titles...'Monarch and Milkweed' seems to be at the head of the poem which should be titled 'Gathering Mushrooms' and vice versa.

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