Play Possum Now

Go limp, sweetie —

remember in that smooth

summer shade, when,

looking for lightning

bugs, we saw

the opossum

playing dead?

 

I told you, honey,

he was just

afraid — more

afraid

than us.

 

Sometimes, scared,

our hope

to live

forces feigning

non-existence.

 

Close your eyes, little child

and remember that opossum;

see how he, all white-faced

and small jaw full

of teeth, is no different

from this boy

in front of us now –

gun instead of claws

and still, more

afraid

than us.

 

But it’s your turn to play

possum now, honey, while

I carry you as we run, now, sweetie,

through the grass

looking for lightning bugs.