The Bat

Observes the world mostly upside down
And clinging fast to branch or ledge
Lays heaven at its feet, hell at its head,
Its smiling face inverted into frown.

In darker tales, such piercing eyes and fangs
Made mockery of our mortality.
For two small drops of blood, how easily
So many sold their souls. But this one hangs –

Until a different hunger bids it fly.
With wings too weak to launch such heaviness,
It has no other choice but to release
Its grasp on airy height and so defy

The stones below. Unfurling its tucked wings
And spreading wide those strong, adapted hands,
It drops toward earth, risking rising land,
Then, gaining speed and lift, begins to sing.

O felix culpa! The ordered world set right,
The smile returns, as if its sonar calling
Were joyful praise for signatures of flight
Or gentler hands that fashion all this falling.

For A. E. Stallings

The post The Bat appeared first on TLS.