by Tyler Housley
There is a half-dead possum
In the middle of the road
Hunched over, bleeding
And we drove by
It’s 4 o’clock in the morning
And the Sun is still hiding
When I returned to the scene
It was still there, less distressed
By the evening, it vanished
Every driver steered clear
I guess the smoke and holiday
Sent residents flying away
When I take a step back,
To shift my frame of mind
I see deceit and trickery
Taking advantage_belittling
Evil is the root of all evil
But, money feeds the soil
Do they want us to stay inside,
Slowly rotting our minds?
If you want to protect the sheep:
Build a barn, and fill it with hay
They’ll come running in –
And they’ll even let you lay on them
What did the possum desire?
To be hit, maimed . . . hurt. No.
Was it trying to solve the riddle:
Why’d the chicken cross the road?
What was on the other side?
Food? Shelter? A place for a family?
Or, a drop of water in this arid Bay;
Free from blooming blue-green algae
If it made it to the other side,
Would it have been satisfied?
Eventually, a bright light shines
Bringing us to the beginning
Keep your eyes on the road ahead
For the peaceful, passing possums,
Or, be prepared to clean your car;
A truly sad way to start the day.