Jenny McBride
I Lied to Him
This year I picked morels with him,
The first time I ever found any.
Got pretty good at it
Under the ashes,
So when he saw my spongy haul
I could even say, “There were so many
“I left some for the squirrels.”
“Where?” he had to know, “On this side of the trail?”
The easiest thing was to say “yes”,
The easiest way to throw him off track.
Yes, I lied to him, but isn’t it okay?
Because the squirrels like some mushrooms too,
After a winter of frozen black walnuts.
“Bad karma to pick them all,” I said earlier,
“You’ll never find any next year.”
But his life is a sheet of take-away wrapping,
My lie a little tear in its hardened edge.
Jenny McBride reads “I Lied to Him”
Jenny McBride’s writing has appeared in Sou’wester, DASH Literary Journal, The California Quarterly, and elsewhere. She makes her home in the rainforest of southeast Alaska.