Playing Possum Poem by Michael Pruchnicki

My old man taught me all about being active.
He encouraged me to trade punches with others.
My old man told me I was weak and passive.
But what if I don't care who's more active?

Pa encouraged me to trade punches with others.
'Put your dukes up, kid! Defend yourself! '
What if I don't throw the first punch, Pa?
'He'll beat your butt good, you hapless fool! '

'Put up your mitts! Keep moving, kid! '
I moved to close with my foe - he threw a right.
'He'll beat you black and blue, blind fool! '
Dazed, I hit the canvas and curled into a ball.

I moved to close with my foe. He hammered me.
Stars exploded. Spit and blood spattered him.
Dazed, I hit the deck and curled into a bloody ball.
Better to play possum than be murdered outright!

Stars twinkled. He was covered with my spit and blood!
My old man yelled at me, 'Get up and fight back! '
I thought better. Play possum and live to tell the tale!
My old man taught me all about being active all right!

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A PANTOUM says everything twice. Rime might appear, but in
a modern pantoum, it is no longer necessary.