How mold
holds mayo
is a miracle,

there in the cold,
there beneath lids,
without hands,
a whole-body
bloom of a grip.

How is it
one moment
smaller than pilling,
than pollen, than sparkle,
then frothing?
The spores
are always snowing.

A strawberry fleeced
with rhizopus
is garbage
and yet larger
than it was when edible:
dissolved into the fizzing
wilderness that knows
no wrap or gasket.