Belated Tuesday poem: (haiku)
June 24, 2015
The scant electric tree
sheds a furred question —
let the answer comfort
dead possum
Poor little guy found under power poles on the way back from my usual café. I think he* was electrocuted, rather than hit by a car, as there is no sign of injury. Some people in Australia hate possums, but I admire them for their ability to live amongst us, running over roofs and reminding us that we aren’t totally divorced from nature.
Off to do a reading soon of nearly all new material. God but I’m prolific! Prolific as a healthy possum with access to unlimited fruit. Which is, I hope, what a possum sees after death.
Other Tuesday poets are more punctual. Read them here.
*I can’t see a pouch, so I assume he.
PS Cottier 
Ah, poor little guy indeed. And a respectful and mysterious little poem in response!
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Yes, Michele. These signs on the way to our deaths are worthy of acknowledgement. And perhaps underground power lines!
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And of itself, the possum deserves respect. I am too drunk right now to write clearly, having just returned from a rather boozy reading.
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I don’t mind possums when they are not chewing through my ceiling.
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I am picturing a whole mob of them perched on your roof, having a contest to see who breaks through first.
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we let them live in the roof cavity before we noticed a hole in the plasterboard
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But the face peeping through was so cute, I’m sure.
Not so sure about the droppings.
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