The Possum Poem by Brian Mayo

My father was a poet and my mother was depressed
The bed that she got pregnant on was quickly repossessed
Now homeless, she gave birth to me on cold November ground
And there she left me lay because I only weighed a pound

I struggled to the gutter seeking warmth, but finding none
I wondered if my life was ending ‘fore it had begun
I knew I needed shelter; knew my time was growing short
And so I started screaming as a loud and last resort

A shadow fell; a nearby possum must’ve heard my cries
I only had a moment to react and improvise
I crawled under its belly, where I found her barren pouch
And once I was inside, it was as comfy as a couch

She raised me as her own; she really went the extra-mile
I drank that possum-milk like it was going out of style
It wasn’t long before I was out foraging for food
I never once felt bashful or self-conscious I was nude

I grew quite strong and quickly mastered all the possum ways
With each new skill I conquered came my possum-mother’s praise.
She nurtured me, and taught me what I needed to survive
Let’s face it- if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be alive

And then one day, I wandered where I knew I shouldn’t go
I heard the sound of music coming from a minstrel show
I edged a little closer, as the sound was quite divine
And that’s when I was spotted- -clinging to a yellow pine

A lady started yelling “There’s a child in the woods! ”
And though her words were gibberish, you bet I understood
My possum-mama called to me from deep within the trees
I hadn’t gotten far when I was plucked right off my knees

The strangers then surrounded me and passed me ‘round the group
They washed my filthy face and fed me homemade chicken soup
They threw me, crying, in a car jam-packed with funny junk
And as we pulled-away I heard a sickening “Ker-Thunk! ”