Home / Poetry / Three Feral Children
Monday, July 28, 2014

Three Feral Children

Google+ Pinterest Print

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.