by Jerry Ratch
I clearly see the squirrels of
negativity all around me
or at least I sense that
they are there,
filling in the blank spaces
as I read down the page
prior to arriving at
the meaning of everything.
The greenness of figs
before they ripen
means nothing at all
to them,
even if they feel a swelling
in their little bellies
while they lie in the open sunlight
stretched out on a limb,
wondering about that
sudden sinking feeling
because they could not,
could not wait for winter.
Keep going, my little panting squirrel,
as your mamas and papas are
falling from the telephone wires
over the street and lie there quietly
until the inquisitive crows
arrive to sweep the streets clean
before the meaning of everything
becomes clear.
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Cool dark poem. LIke the ending.
Squirrels of negativity. I see them, too. *
"I clearly see the squirrels of/
negativity all around me"
Well, you see them on Fictionaut, that's for sure. *
Some pretty big-ass squirrels, I dare say.
This is beautiful, Jerry.
Thanks for this.
I am clueless but pleased somehow.
The last stanza. **
Good poem, Jerry. Strong closing image.
Little squirrels would do well to listen to you. Very cool! *