Three Feral Children
1. Raccoon Boy
On a camping trip, while my parents slept
I crawled away, was rescued and raised
by a pack of raccoons
until, my foot caught in a trap,
I was brought back to my family
who ate together, but put my food
in a garbage can in a darkened room.
Naturally, I tried to mate with my
siblings who mostly rejected me.
School was a trial; no one respected
my life lessons as a raccoon.
But the most valuable lesson,
I came to regret, I hadn’t learned:
to bite through my ankle and flee.
2. Muskrat Boy
Yes, it’s true I was raised by muskrats;
how that came to be is neither here nor there.
My hair is long and sleek. Having no tail
is an embarrassment; I say a turtle took it.
Quick in the water, stealthy on land,
I eat fish raw, like the Japanese.
Like everyone, I fight and breed;
I love my family.
My burrow’s entrance is underwater;
the dry skins will never find it.
3. Opossum Girl
I am not playing possum;
I am an opossum.
It is my choice.
My parents abandoned me
“for reasons unknown.”
Opossums raised me,
but fell over, foaming at the mouth,
when I frightened them.
It was disturbing, so I left.
I am a singular opossum.
I am not playing possum.
Being an opossum is serious business.
Widely unknown Euro-American-Hawaiian poet Jim Chapson will be flying in to Milwaukee to participate in the Great Lakes Review reading event at Art*Bar on Monday, July 28, at 7pm.