Poem: Brushtail Possum
In this week’s Poet’s Corner, Kim Waters addresses a nocturnal garden visitor.
Brushtail Possum
I.
Crouching on the fence,
your eyes wide, a springed idea
leaps before you leap,
landing on the outer limb
of a magnolia tree.
II.
Crafted with sharp claws
and silver fur, your brushtail
curls around a branch
as you waver upside down,
an opening talking mark.
III.
You are the loud one
I love to hate, back-packing
in your hiking boots
across the bumpy terrain
of my terracotta roof.
IV.
Last week I saw you
low’ring yourself like a thief
in infrared light
trained across a garden bed
of my cherry tomatoes.
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V.
An insomniac,
when I capture you in my
overhead torchlight
it’s difficult to ignore
the fear of your pink-eye shine.
Kim Waters lives in Melbourne. She has a Master of Arts degree in creative writing from Deakin University and is currently studying for an Advanced Diploma of Visual Art. Her poems have appeared in The Australian, Going Down Swinging, Verge, StylusLit, The Shanghai Literary Review and La Piccioletta Barca. She won the 2020 Woorilla Poetry Prize.