Dead Possums Poem by Francis Duggan

A brush tail possum has died in the ceiling the strong scent of death and decay
Has been wafting down through the ceiling boards for many the night and the day
The smell will remain for a few weeks in time it will soon fade away
But the bones of the deceased marsupial in the ceiling where he or she died will lay

Until the house will be demolished in the future whenever that may be
In fifty or sixty years from now or longer still a century
Where possums sleep they too do die or so it does seem to appear
They rest in dark ceilings during the day with the remains of their dead kin to them near.

I've seldom seen a brush tail or a ringtail possum out in the bright sunlight
They are nocturnal creatures who venture out at night
You hear them walking on the roofs or hear them call on bush and tree
And with the aid of a torch in your backyard after nightfall them you can see

To watch a mother brush with her young is an amazing thing
To the short grey fur along her back the little one does cling
Slow moving and sleepy looking creatures yet most predators of them will stay clear
Those deadly sharp claws that they possess are weapons for to fear.