All Those Opossums
©May 11th, 2016
By Vijaya Sundaram
All those opossums
Crossing the road
In cold, cruel North America
Where cars drive by, oblivious,
Callous and uncouth, eating the horizon,
Metal behemoths, graceless and soulless
Carrying fleshy bipeds, intent on pleasure,
Needlessly texting, swilling coffee, eating.
All those opossums,
Slow and sweet
Full of lumpish grace
Full of beautiful tiny-eyed wonder
Full of somnolence and moonlight
Full of love, and need and fear
Full of the urge to get the hell across.
Look! There come a pair of yellow eyes
To blind an opossum’s little bright ones.
Hurry, little opossum!
The moon hides her face.
The moving clouds freeze.
Lilacs bloom in purple grief.
Heedless, the human drives on.
Somewhere, someone will grieve
For you, little opossum.
Somewhere, someone will remember
That you once lived.
And you will live again
Slowly crossing the highway
On a moonlight night,
With the scent of blooming lilacs
Wafting you along your way.
No humans will zoom by
Milky clouds will move gently across
And you will lump across with grace
WIth your six children on your back,
Ruling the roads, and the moon
Will sail you safely home.
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