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Three Feral Children

Jul. 28, 2014
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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.


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