Linda McQuarrie-Bowerman

Playing Possum   

The street was teeming with the Sunday coffee crowd.
I stood looking at the body of a possum lying dead
on the corner of Albion and Smart,

its stiffening body curled
around the bottom of a power pole, nose still pink.
I had the urge to give it CPR.

I drew the line at mouth-to-mouth although the prospect
wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Had there been
no one watching. I once saved a man

by bashing on his chest and taking out his teeth then
blowing air into his sour mouth. The paramedics 
gave me minty gum to take away the taste

of nearly-death. Thank god for resus refresher classes every year
on plastic dummies stiff as possums dead on corners. My teeth
are still my own and cleaning them reminds me

of the man. And chewing minty gum reminds me
of my use-by date: not stamped in black on the skin, just
a sudden secret time my ingredients will expire.

 

Linda is a Poet living in the seaside town of Lake Tabourie, NSW Australia. She is completing her Arts Degree in Creative Writing. Linda lives with her husband, fur, and feather kids, and always has a well-stocked wine fridge.