Playing Possum - Poem by Ima Ryma
As an opossum, I am skilled
At thanatosis, which I hear
Is seeming dead, unconscious willed,
When threatenings do cause me fear.
I do go dead in look and smell,
In involuntary response,
And fool intruders very well,
In very quite detailed nuance.
One being a death grimace grim,
With mouth wide open and teeth bared.
I went to a road on a whim.
My space with cars and trucks I shared.
Good at my playing possum skill
Went bad when I became road kill.
Comments about Playing Possum by Ima Ryma
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You