In a Low Gear (Possum Poem)

The pet of a vagrant God…

In a Low Gear

 

I’m in a low gear, while my neighbor and I rest in lawn chairs.

As alternating sunlight and showers pass overhead…

sitting in a sunbeam, “We’re getting wet,” I said.

 

All the while we sit like boys marveling

at a possum, a gassy sack of intestine,

an awfully queer, bloated plodder;

fat and pale and moving alone…

“The pet of a vagrant God…”

 

“A fat sack of accumulated sighs…”

As my friend breathes an oval upwards

and taps the ash from his cigarette.

 

In the Spring twilight! with all its buds and blossoms

and wafting fragrance of flowery stems,

and bent twigs fuzzy with mildew.

And as the night stars move across the sky,

heading out for a nocturnal waddle.

Not much doing but the relations and

a short walk across the roadway.

– Carl Nelson

Photo taken from Google Images

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