Arthrobotrys oligospora anthropophagous
A molecular mycologist,
I relish the fruits of my genetic manipulation
even as I’m consumed.
My monstrous children no longer spill
their chemical siren-scent into soil
and snare hapless nematodes in hyphal strands.
Now, Arthorbotyrs oligospora anthropophagous
calls humanity into fungal clutches.
My warning to the world:
Beware the pheromones of nostalgia and longing.
Don’t follow the scent-trail of lavender-mint,
it won’t lead to your mother’s embrace.
That’s not your true love’s cooking
or your newborn daughter’s milky-sweetness.
It’s too late for me,
but I’m not afraid.
Do you know what we owe
this ancient lineage, neither plant nor animal?
One way or another, you will.
I’ve played god with reckless abandon:
A. oligospora is not alone in its sudden,
shifting appetites.
H.V. Patterson (she/her) lives in Oklahoma and writes speculative poetry and fiction. Her favorite things to write about are weird creatures and the dark side of science and folklore. She’s a cofounder of Horns and Rattles Press. Recent stories and poems published or upcoming with Sliced Up Press, Diet Milk Magazine, Creature Publishing, Flame Tree Press, Eerie River, Flash Fiction Online, and Black Spot Books. Find her on Twitter @ScaryShelley and on Instagram @hvpattersonwriter