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.
Ah, poor little guy indeed. And a respectful and mysterious little poem in response!
Yes, Michele. These signs on the way to our deaths are worthy of acknowledgement. And perhaps underground power lines!
And of itself, the possum deserves respect. I am too drunk right now to write clearly, having just returned from a rather boozy reading.
I don’t mind possums when they are not chewing through my ceiling.
I am picturing a whole mob of them perched on your roof, having a contest to see who breaks through first.
we let them live in the roof cavity before we noticed a hole in the plasterboard
But the face peeping through was so cute, I’m sure.
Not so sure about the droppings.