Last night, there was a raccoon on the porch
Invading what we thought was ours alone.
Her groping claws, more grotesque under torch;
Abysmal eyes, less empathic than stone.
And only yesterday, in that back yard
We hated those more harmless than the thing
That rustles through the trash, picks scabs that scarred,
And leaves the feeder (like our conscience) ringing -
Tonight, I saw not one raccoon but two.
My palms grew sweat - my eyes drew tears -
They could have been most anyone -
And so I pulled the shade, and I withdrew.
Revised April 30, 2012
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