magi gibson

Bat Song

So, our features offend
you, . Too shrunken-
skulled, too rat-eyed
ugly web-winged embryos.

Skinny in leather and slinky
fur, do you find our forms
too nazi for your
civilised sensibilities?

You blame the moon
for our presence.

But we have always been/are
always here -

armies of us sleeping
in your soulless churches
fornicating in the rafters
pissing on prayerbooks and pews.

Or lurking in dark dank
places your kind once too
inhabited.

We stream at dusk like smoke
into your streets, scribe
the thin black air with
strange graffiti.

You claim we make your
flesh crawl, appearing
out of darkness and silence.

Is it our fault, Sir,
that you are deaf
to the beauty of our songs.