playing possum (national poetry month #28)
Playing Possum
So I passed a possum on the side of the road again today
And I think it’s safe to assume that it isn’t faking this time.
How many times people had thought it was dead already,
Or thought that it was only playing around
And held up their noses at its inability to act as they thought it should?
I wonder how often it practiced laying in that position
Until what was once within became without.
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