I am completely swamped with grading and won’t have time for much new material, if any, until after final grades are turned in three weeks from now. In the meantime, here’s an existing poem from my younger days. Can you tell where I grew up?

Arkansas Possums
For Miss B and Mister L

The August night skims
On a million wings,
Vampires who make love
Malarian position.

The moving storm drops
Cloudy pods of light,
Fitful sparks against
Dusty, ancient Mason jars.

The humid night wraps
Tight about the Earth,
A bitter fisted
Salute to her nothingness.

Young boys panther roads,
Search back seats for love,
Dropping fifths and pints
In weedy summer ditches.

Possum smashed to dust,
Blood still fiery bright,
Solitary waste
On hellish backroads,
Transfixed in gravel,
Its surprise like a buck deer’s
Round spotlighted eyes.