Thursday, May 07, 2009

Tiny Bats

hang like green grapes
beneath Congress Street Bridge

at dusk
they drop

gulp air
and jettison
guano

their numbers
paint the sky
black

they spread
like treacle
through ebony
night

on Bollingen Island
fox bats
fall free
under ebon
limbs

at dusk
they eat
pomegranates
with simian hands

at dawn they sleep
suspended

swaying
in sour wind