Brett Hursey 3, Squirrel Suicide

The following is from the book, Sign Language, a collection of poetry by Brett Hursey:

Dr. Dolittle

He hears a faint
Goodbye, cruel world
through the floorboard
as another possum
throws itself under his retreads — 

one more suicidal marsupial
fed up with a bumbling,
trailer park and trashcan existence. 

Last week, he tried to talk
a despondent squirrel down
from the power lines outside his house — 

inspirational pictures
of coconuts and macadamias
from his National Geographic  

powerless against the shrill, chittering wail:
Pecans! Too many rotten kids and pecans!
followed by a bushy-tailed plunge into asphalt. 

Even now, he grimly reheats
macaroni in the microwave
and tries to ignore the mosquitoes
throwing themselves headlong
into his neighbor’s bug zapper — 

their thin, tinny shrieks
sparking against his nerves:
Why won’t you call?
You don’t care!
You never loved me!

If you are enjoying the poetry posted here at A Bunch of Wordz, consider supporting some of the artists by purchasing their books.  If you enjoyed this poem, consider purchasing Sign Language from R.A. Fountain Internet Cafe.

This is the third installment of “Brett Hursey Week.”  View posts one and two.  Hursey’s work has won an Academy of American Poets Prize, three AWP Journal Awards, multiple IBPC prizes, and has been nominated for two Pushcart Prizes.

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