Armillaria ostoyae
By Cúan Cusack
The largest being on earth has no body
No body but a hive mind
Buried in the earth beyond the blue mountains
Heaving nitrogen between root networks
This is how the earth body feels
But you severed the connection
You dug up its tendrils showering spores overhead
Fragmenting its nexus
The fungal mind disrupted by blunt instruments
It continued to grow mangled
A vengeful world beneath our own
Raging under a thin crust of concrete
It will make you wheeze blue dust for what you did
The earth's mind, slipping into dementia
Plaque building in its networks
Forgetting and remembering fragments
In new anthropocenite arrangements
Always feeling unfamiliar
Sustenance
By Cúan Cusack
I don’t expect my plants to grow up straight
I don’t assume them to conform to the shape of others
I don’t expect them to thrive without light
They don't grow broad and strong while confined
I don't demand her to weather harsh cold and survive
I would not expect their roots to burrow through leeched soil
I don’t criticise my plants for wilting
Nor assume recovery without aid
I would not presume him to bloom when he is denied food
I don’t expect them to fruit after being grafted
So why would I expect it of me?
Instead, I repot them in mismatched containers
Let the humidity hum around them
They grow in unexpected ways
This Season
By Cúan Cusack
In dim light
The package arrives
Torn open
Its insides exposed to stale air
A ghost of fabric against her collarbone
Tags tangled in her hair
Delicate watercolour florals
Frozen in time by a factory
The petals clinging to her body
Asking her to not let go
Once coveted is now clutter
Wilting in a wardrobe
Then cast to the wind
Like seeds, the print finds a second life
In the heap
Flowers grow in rubbish dumps
Piling over each other
Their imprint is fossilized
Replaced by new plastic floral prints
This season’s colours are brighter than before
