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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3744 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Playing Possum Laurie Byro At first, I was fascinated with your rat-like tail. I imagined you hanging with babies, nipples engorged. You foraged treats with your ringless fingers. In those days, I picked through bits of conversation, helped myself to other people’s husbands. Nothing dissuaded me as I tried to reconcile myself to an ordinary life. I’d hug my bathrobe tighter, peer through the window as you peered in. You’d waddle back to darkness, sated by our wealthy leavings. Michael or I would threaten to poison you, he’d often throw a shoe. After a few nights absence, he’d wander the kitchen to sneak an apple, some attempt at peace. You were dignified, would take the proffered present in your human hands, sit like a queen in ermine moonlight. The day I prepared the garden for spring, My hoe snagged something solid. Just as on the porch, I sensed you before I knew you, averted my eyes, ashamed at what I would find. Your bloated belly, not a clump of leftover snow. Nothing human, nothing to cry over. Just your fur in its decay, not like trash. Those bold prying fingers, that bloodied shawl of moonlight. |
