Trees shake with screams,
six raccoons one after another
possum (opossum?) gazing in
at clutter thinking "who is here
that lives this way?" the screams
double-tongued like a junior high
jazz floutist real cool great for his age,
many sounds in one, pure sonic power
they're martyring a cat tonight,
little zealots,
opossum sitting solemn alone, below,
we killed half the tree with barbecue smoke
it taps a note of vengeance on the window
with its one good branch, bless, I never meant -
was I asleep? The screams awake me,
my cat's enemy the neighbor's cat
crucified against a bleeding sky
"oh my!" I think, the screams like
laughs instead, trills, the flute is sharp
the cats are fine, opossum turns and trundles
six raccoons retreating in the dawn
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