Shapeshifting

Whatever happens
or has happened
or will happen,
I am raccoon clever;
I unlock any trap
and bandit my way home,
soft chuckling to myself.

Or instead,
maybe I snake it on out of there
on my belly,
getting up
once I’ve scared everyone
and am out of sight.

Shapeshifting’s a staked game
with low limits:  your life, your death.
You don’t play with your own treasure.
At the last moment, always,
I find the right shape to survive
the crisis.

Brilliant as a kamikaze moth
upon striking the target,
I crackle with connection
at the moment of encounter.
If  I have to burn myself up
into escape,
it’ll be the right thing to do.
I’ll have won

as the animal nature
of life into death
always wins.