Three 'coons come at his garbage. He be cross, <br />I figuring porcupine & took Sir poker <br />unbarring Mr door, <br />& then screen door. Ah, but the little 'coon, <br />hardly a foot (not counting tail) got in with <br />two more at the porch-edge <br /> <br />and they swirled, before some two swerve off <br />this side of crab tree, and my dear friend held <br />with the torch in his tiny eyes <br />two feet off, banded, but then he gave & <br />shot away too. They were all the same size, <br />maybe they were brothers, <br /> <br />it seems, and is, clear to me we are brothers. <br />I wish the rabbit & the 'coons could be friends, <br />I'm sorry about the poker <br />but I'm too busy now for nipping or quills <br />I've given up literature & taken down pills, <br />and that rabbit doesn't trust me<br /><br />John Berryman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dream-song-107-three-coons-come-at-his-garbage-h/
