I will oprepare an opoem for the opossum,
send the syllables skittering on steel-sharp claws,
scratching dactyls and iambs in wiry scrawls,
sniff out hidden rhymes with a needle nose,
and disdain the sun-bright fields of open prose.
I will opaint an oportrait of the opossum,
dangling by her hairless tail as on a dare,
in complacent sleep, cradled in the air;
or, with fifty teeth gleaming like a demon,
grinning through the boughs of a persimmon.
I'll oproduce an opaean of opraise for the opossum,
this leapless cousin of the kangaroo
who waits till darkness falls for her debut,
who scurries low, in perpetual crouch,
and totes a dozen young inside her pouch.
For this quirky creature with prehensile tail,
who leaves starlike tracks upon the dusty trail,
who practices her death when faced by danger
or when confronted by a sudden stranger,
because her plans move faster than her feet,
whenever she prepares to cross the street,
I'll oproclaim an oprayer for the opossum.
