How it feels to be a bat
There are the headaches, then
the feverish sense of darkness. Taste,
none but the crackly limbs of gnats.
Hate is a constant on the radar
and immense blank surfaces block
the call by which I come to belong
in the shape of a response.
I tell you so you don’t use that weapon
empathy. In thinking into me
you penetrate to take possession.
I believe you believe you are alone
in having that privilege, while all the while
you’re slowly being re-encompassed
by black wings.
Andrew Nightingale (@andrenothingale) is currently working on a group of poems about the “Anatomical Venus”. His previous work has included visual, concrete and prose poetry. He lives in St Leonards-on-Sea and works in the charity sector.