Julio Possum

by Chris Espenshade

He likes ripe persimmons

Drinks American beer

He stinks like some old socks

And is thus welcome here


First fetched him on home

Thinking of a thick stew

But those little bead eyes

Will work voodoo on you


Hangs out the truck window

With wind-swept pointed face

Lamenting the road kills

Of the o-possum race 


Two beers is his limit

You can surely relate

Any more than that pair

He cannot quite walk straight


NPR radio


He always hisses and farts

At that Sean Hannity


Has taken over our house

Showing very little fear

Picture prehensile tail

And a glass chandelier


After three years with us

He developed an itch

To go and procreate

With a cute toothsome bitch


Now many years later

Put this story to bed

Confident that this time

He is not playing dead


Julio Possum, Julio Possum

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An archaeologist, Chris Espenshade branched into creative writing in 2017. He's had humor works accepted by The Paragon Journal, The Write Launch, National Pasquinade, The Cabinet of Heed, The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, and the mobile app of Life in the Finger Lakes magazine.