Fried A Bat For Lunch Poem by Vera Sidhwa

Today I fried a bat for lunch,
Which I got myself to munch and munch,
His cape shaped wings,
His mousy head.

Then I spat out his little fried head,
For now I thought, I could be dead, dead, dead!
From eating such a concoction indeed,
Of bat wings, bat heads and bat feet.

Why I did this, I do not know,
It was a thrill and taking chances' afterglow.
But eating bats for munch-a-bunch lunch,
Was even for me a too wierd brunch.