Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                                   Old Mr. ‘Possum and the Moon

Old Mr. ‘Possum is a garbageman
Who quietly works his appointed nightly rounds
Unappreciated as he tidies this
And cleans up that, all without any fuss

The other animals don’t seem to like him much
For his wobbling, waddling walk, his untidiness
His pointy nose, his all-draggledy tail
And his awkward shape like a loaf of oaf

But when he lifts his eyes to the queen of the skies
He knows that to her he is a knight in disguise

cracks of silence –
open letter to pain,
closed doors to love
kisses of violence –
tasting it all again

cherubs from above –
devils on my shoulders;
smiles before expected losses
pretend game of true love –
these horns are placeholders
suicidal thoughts in my head
play dead inside – possums.

Possums on a wire
Or on a roof.
Wherever they transpire
They remain aloof
To what problems we
Inflate and accumulate

Possums on a wire
Or on a roof.
Little care for how we take fire
And hide the proof
Of what damages us
Until the day
We meet our fate —
Wherever it may be;
Possibly on a wire
Or on a roof.

If you were reincarnated
You'd be a Butterfly
And I'd be a possum
Wanting to be cute but actually ugly
They might see beauty
But I see the mirror crack
Every now and then
Usually after ten