Loading...
Loading...
Click here if you don’t see subscription options
Sara MillerOctober 04, 2004

I took the possum apart by myself.
There were no instruments, per se;
mostly it was questions, telepathy.
But these were enough.

They revealed that the middle of the possum
and the middle of the night are one and the same.
The night is all that is in him.
It is how he goes, how he secretly lives.
It is what he is hiding.

Now it is no mere dream of the night
that occupies the possum, nor revelations
in the night, nor expectations of day
begotten by night, nor any yearnings
or conjurings thereof—just night,
the blackness and breathing.

There is nothing to be done, of course.
Night is uncorrectable.
And I am not now, nor have I ever been, a healer.
I just go into the woods.
Then I go deeper.

Comments are automatically closed two weeks after an article's initial publication. See our comments policy for more.

The latest from america

A Reflection for the Memorial of St. Athanasius, Bishop and Doctor of the Church, by J.D. Long García
J.D. Long GarcíaApril 30, 2025
A Homily for the Third Sunday of Easter, by Terrance Klein
Terrance KleinApril 30, 2025
In a pre-conclave meeting, an Italian cardinal, and backer of Cardinal Parolin as next pope, attacked Pope Francis for opening positions of responsibility in the church to men and women not in holy orders.
Gerard O’ConnellApril 30, 2025
Michael B. Jordan, left, in “Sinners” (Warner Brothers)
As the film’s title promises, there is plenty of sin on display, even before the vampires arrive.
John DoughertyApril 30, 2025