Ruckle in a poem

Possum

There you go, fast in a long swagger,
cool cat on a hot night,
impenitent and gleaming.

You, your siblings, grandes dames of the band,
slick as spit on brown limbs,
mount, rear, are flung

with aplomb against the surly clouds, printing
claw and brawn on dome and mind,
your plunge all defiance.

‘I can’, your name says in Latin. You do,
leaving a reek, year by year,
in my stone tent’s pitch,

hooking your way by stubs of wire, fleering
back at a ruckle of twigs, launched
to bypass rhyme or reason.

Small clown, prince of the raw, moron
with blazing eyes, keep watching:
you are not alone.

Written by Peter Steele. how can you go passed a poem that uses the word 'ruckle'?