The Squirrel

by Meg Rumsey-Lasersohn


I spoke to a squirrel as she gripped
Upside down to the bark of a white oak
And she said to me
Leave your husband
And live in the whorl of a tree
Collect the milkweed tufts when they catch in the grass
And line your home with them
Devour seeds, fungi, and even young snakes
You don’t need a sister or a lover
Fear the hawk instead of yourself
And I said mademoiselle
I have buried many things
But at least
I remember
Where I put them


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Meg Rumsey-Lasersohn lives in Southern California with her beloved partner and animals. She writes poetry and grants for a legal aid non-profit, creates site-specific immersive theater with award-nominated company Die Cast, and reads a great deal of queer romance novels in her spare time. She is working on befriending the crows in the backyard.