This Earthly Cycled Hope
the ugliest of creatures
the eater of dead other creatures
the possum
in the persimmon tree
deadly grey white
slow moving bulk
nose snufflng the earth
for creatures to consume
even that one
returns each spring
past territorial walls and trees
awake in the day
only in the spring
not even fearing its enemy
us
it drops down from a thick limb
heavy beside us
while in my bedroom
the exotic plant I never watered
thought it dead
leafed out fully
after four brown months
in spring
the moment to which
all deaths point
and boy toy the painter
prisonbait
for torching his last job
the house he had come to hate
but he came back to my house
in the spring
his name and likeness
in every squadcar
his fingerprints
not yet recorded
when I drink he said
I do terrible things
but I just want to paint
I want to be a painter
I gave him a set of paints
thick vellum and best wishes
because cars frightened him
from my door
he might have torched my house
with me in it
the possum who eats carrion
the lost soul who burns his job
the souls consumed and consuming
that nevertheless and relentless
come around in the spring
with strange yearnings
named in other names
in codes to hide the news
that souls need tending
at least every spring
~~~~
Judy Prince
9.6.05
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