Bat Corpse Poem by Lillian Susan Thomas
Bat Corpse
Small as a child's hand,
Light as a leaf,
Fluttering in the up-draft
That flows like a river of air
Through the vent grate.
Even with all its rattling
Against the bars,
Trying to rise into blackness.
Spirit has flown, only bat corpse remains.
Tough rawhide is stretched
Thin as paper
Over that wide 'w' of wings
Hinged with claws,
Like a carnivorous kite:
Never to squeak and huddle
In warm masses of kin.
Spirit has flown, only bat corpse remains.
Trapped away from the thick chirping night
By a predatory swoop
Upon a fat cricket,
Never to swing through a halo of streetlight,
No matter how much wind lifts that tiny frame:
Only bat corpse remains.
The others have said it well. If I were going to amend the last line at all, I would leave out 'for' altogether. But its a minor point. Fine work, I like your empathy with the animal world. The poem reminds me of once when I came across the dessicated body of a bird that had been run over by a car.
Beautifully observed, beautifully described, with real sympathy for the animal that has died. Michael's suggested amendment makes the ending more optimistic, but is this what you were looking for? I think your ending is just right.
Some admirable literary devices at play - 'Like a carnivorous kite' is a wonderful simile. You also manage to paint a swathe of heart-felt emotion - 'never to squeak and huddle' - magnificent. S :)
This is a beautiful poem. But, if my officiousness may be forgiven, may I suggest changing the last line to: 'Only bat corpse remains. But the spirit has flown...'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 5:45:18 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I like the way you describe the bat before its demise. Your repetition of 'only bat corpse remains' predominates and leaves the image lingering. I never like running over or killing any animal. We have squirrels here who dart across the streets and never make it alive. Then there are some opposums too. I will probably think of your poem the next time I witness a new roadkill.