dead possum

by: bekah pollard

all of the squirrels are running and jumping and

climbing faster than I’ve ever seen. scaling the trees scurrying

across grass as if their lives depend on it.

they’re hiding. they’re seeking

shelter because they know. they’ve seen it.

down the street down on the ground

way down beneath the trees lies a motionless

mass of fur. belly down, tail out, face buried in the grass

like it’s embarrassed to have died this way.

unmoving, head covered, I couldn’t tell

if it was dead or just playing. hiding for now because

it shouldn’t be out in the daytime? stuck to the ground

only until sun falls and moon rises?

as the rain falls and the nights pass, it still sits.

growing wet, shriveling like an old rag

drawing into itself even when it can no longer move.

its hairless muscley tail laid out

weighing on bumpy cement, curved slightly as if to wave

a last goodbye, then glued forever to the ground.