“I don’t like mushrooms” he’d say
but she always added them anyway.
Not to spite him, or to make him mad, but
because she had faith
that one day, she’d find a mushroom he liked
and prepare them so well,
so uniquely

that he would fall in love
with the flavour, texture, and prospect,

of mushrooms.
Creamy, earthy, velvety; a profile
that only comes with time,
and just the right environment;
Humid, fertile and moderately cool.
She had a feeling the relationship wouldn’t work
as soon as she heard these words
loosely fall from his mouth.
A mouth filled with an army of taste buds she disagreed with;

Taste buds she was willing to challenge, until triumph.

“I don’t like mushrooms”

She wondered how

she could lust over lips,

attached to a mouth,

housing a tongue

that didn’t care for the future

of mushrooms.

Didn’t care to even explore their potential.
“I don’t like mushrooms”
But “there are so many varieties” she’d say
Trumpet, Hedgehog, Hen of The Wood, Chanterelle;

All different in origin, color, shape, flavor.

Thousands of varieties;
still undiscovered.
How can someone possibly say that?
“I don’t like mushrooms”
It was her duty, on behalf of all mushrooms
Known and unknown
to change his mind.
She felt perplexed when he didn’t

eat the mushroom soup she’d cooked that night.

She thought the time had come

for his taste buds to surrender;
For him to smile sweetly
and acknowledge

that this soup’s intense, toasty, buttery state,

was undeniably delicious.

Yet it went to waste, in a mouth with no respect, for Morel.

“I don’t like mushrooms”

She sat alone at the dining room table

Watching him

eat a sad, mushroomless pizza on the couch

that he ordered, without her input

or even asking if she wanted a slice,

of his pizza.

A pizza which would have been far superior

with some finely sliced Portobellos.

“I don’t like mushrooms”

Although she felt defeated that night,
she would continue,
to add mushrooms

to new recipes
and dutifully apologise

after yet another unintelligible review.

Apologise,
on behalf of the chosen variety
and her continued desire to feed him
something he didn’t like.
To ultimately,
choose fungus
over her love for him.