Little but Fierce

I had to share this poem I got from Writer's Almanac this morning. "It is safe to assume, / given my fireside inked with paw prints, / there would have been room" is my new favorite line ever.


Poem: "Nurture" by Maxine W. Kumin, from Selected Poems 1960-1990. © W.W. Norton & Company, 1989.


Nurture

From a documentary on marsupials I learn
that a pillowcase makes a fine
substitute pouch for an orphaned kangaroo.


I am drawn to such dramas of animal rescue.
They are warm in the throat. I suffer, the critic proclaims,
from an overabundance of maternal genes.


Bring me your fallen fledgling, your bummer lamb,


lead the abused, the starvelings, into my barn.
Advise the hunted deer to leap into my corn.


And had there been a wild child–
filthy and fierce as a ferret, he is called
in one nineteenth-century account–


a wild child to love, it is safe to assume,
given my fireside inked with paw prints,
there would have been room.


Think of the language we two, same and not-same,
might have constructed from sign,
scratch, grimace, grunt, vowel:


Laughter our first noun, and our long verb, howl.