The bat is hideous        I love him so much        a fact:
if you stepped on a bat in front of me I’d kill you

twice       like a villain in a hot blue tailcoat       the night
floats its cream moon in ichor       orichalcum       the bat

is happy in the dark like me        smoking a long cigar
at the coffee table        watching another mansion tour

which culminates descending into a private
nightclub        red velvet ropes        the ideal of luxury

is to vanish inside amenities        like the Batcave
or the Glacier Express        my train of thought keeps ducking

into tunnels        rare glassware sparking like crickets        hey
have you ever been at a party and just needed to hide?

have you ever been at your own party and just needed
to hide?        I feel like boarding a plane alone in a black suit

with no luggage        and wherever I land I’ll get a job
for a secret society        gently smuggling fat envelopes

from a lush hotel into the        dark       garden lights        teal
and red fig trees        I think I’ll live in the hour        deep

as a plum seed        troubling the sky for a little moth-wing
and sniffing my flightpath like the bat        I’ll have everything

in my grand coaly wings        respect        fear         and when I open
my mouth        all these high squeaky sounds will tear out