Today's poem is by Geoffrey Brock

Possum Hour

Worn down by relentless
            small talk, and despite
his terrible breath
            and unbearable self-regard,
I gave in—it was easier
            than fighting him off:
I let morning take me

right here on the couch,
            where he's had his way
with me all afternoon,
            position after sordid
position, not tiring
            even now as evening
presses his possum

face to the glass
            awaiting his turn,
and the TV continues
            to watch me, transfixed,
and studio audiences,
            one after another,
jeer and applaud

Copyright © 2005 Geoffrey Brock All rights reserved
from Weighing Light
Ivan R. Dee, Publisher
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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