Raccoon Sonnet (One Line Stolen)
This morning, I noticed them. Two raccoons within the traps,
rolled furred balls, unhappy lady eyes unmoving, black rings
blurry with hassle, caught. Wyoming wind reducing my
face like a great apple and fats chickens strutting round
the silver traps. They take the chickens, somebody defined.
One thing about kidnapping, one thing about killing
elsewhere: rubbery neck in feral mouth, dragging two by
two to a burrow, little arms scraping feathers till a rubied
terrain of meat. On the town, persons are observing me once more.
White males holding bacon to their mouths and searching.
Watching me take a look at them me, salty meat on
every saddled plate. Fascinated by my murderous raccoons,
violence unseen, clear. I’m unsure what’s higher, what’s worse.
Raccoon Sonnet (Two Strains Stolen)
This night, they had been gone. The raccoons had been
“dispatched.” Not despatched elsewhere, not sorrow slung just a few
strong miles away. Shot: two echoes briefly grass. The traps
heat with two thick pelts. Now emptied, flies coming in for
a sip quickly, certainly. I simply hate it. How one lifeless factor means
one other lives. It’s the nation, my buddy texts me, and she or he’s
proper. What do I learn about what to maintain or remedy or kill?
I stored consuming bread gone moldy. I cured an egg in a lot salt
and begged it to salve me. I killed my marriage earlier than it killed
me. If solely time may unlatch itself, may scurry towards
metropolis, nation, no matter smooth dwelling got here earlier than all this. I hope,
at the least, the raccoons shall be eaten. Stewed down, a helpful elegy.
Jane Wong is the writer of the memoir Meet Me Tonight in Atlantic Metropolis (Tin Home, 2023). She additionally wrote two poetry collections: How one can Not Be Afraid of All the things (Alice James, 2021) and Overpour (Motion Books, 2016).
