over romaine
   greens. I wonder
            at the pleasure
                     these pungent
                             fungi bring — 
                           gold in a chef’s pan.
                       White truffle oil,
              my preference,
         more peppery
             than the black.
                    Makes sense —
                        being part Sicilian —
                    that the robust Italian
               whites appeal more
                  than the tamer ebon
                         French ones.
                           All sub rosa
                                       symbiotic fruiting
                                             tubers — a cabal
                                                of crafty warty walnuts.
                                              Beware the poisonous
                                          false ones. A bit of
                                      truffle oil in brash
                              hands can be
                        dreadful excess. Know
                   the supreme risk —
              a snuffling sow
               with a bent
                      for ravenous love
                           when that special
                               pheromone flares. Still,
                           it’s truffles’ hidden
                           nature that intrigues —
                                             like the echoed
                                                   treasure of my
                                            my musings,
                                          secrets I let


― appeared in The Whistling Fire, 2009