Bessy's Alive. Poem by Geoffrey Fafard

Bessy is a dead flying fox
She hangs from a barbed fence
Her resting place of finality
You see a flying fox has to be taught to fly
Not all pass that test
Bess messed up on landing
So she hangs now in a perpetual state
Upside down naturally…

A breeze kisses her on this fence
Beside the Melaleuca tree
Next to the shimmer on the lake
She sways gently
There is not a lot to a little flying fox
Gossamer wings, tiny toes
Two tiny eyes and white teeth
Her head is tilted
World watching
She waits day by day
Gentle in death...

We pass her daily
My dog and I
And lately we stop and chat
Dead spectacled flying foxes
Are worthy conversationalists
Hello darlin I say
you are looking well…? rested…?
Woof, says my dog
See…. already more sensible
Than my previous person talk...

The lake's looking good I muse
She sways in the breeze
A tiny spider joins us
See you've got friends today
Such a beautiful day today Bess
Always I call her by name
Each day I chat
Each day I stop
Just for a moment
Just to say hello
I will, till she turns to dust
Just to keep my hold
On the world...