Tuesday, February 7, 2017

Possums by Sheila Black

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February 7, 2017


Sheila Black

About This Poem


"This poem is a riff on the idea of 'playing dead,' which has always fascinated me a little—what would it feel like, could it feel like, not to be in motion of one kind or another? Plus, where I live in Texas we have a lot of possums. Recently one chose to play dead on top of a fence in my backyard—frightened by my dogs. I was amazed how motionless the possum remained, how she fooled me—utterly—until she upped and ran."
—Sheila Black


Sheila Black is the author of Iron, Ardent (Educe Press, 2017). She directs Gemini Ink, a literary arts center in San Antonio, Texas.

Poetry by Black


Iron, Ardent

(Educe Press, 2017)

"Plague of Dead Sharks" by Alan Dugan


"The Radio Animals" by Matthea Harvey


"Me and the Otters" by Dorothea Lasky




Launched during National Poetry Month in 2006, Poem-a-Day features new and previously unpublished poems by contemporary poets on weekdays and classic poems on weekends. If you enjoy Poem-a-Day, please consider making a donation to help make it possible.



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