Bats

I suppose that’s what.
I was sitting at the edge of the concrete dock,
cooing
seeking soothing
for the dying all around me.

Under-dressed and
delirious in the strange and sluggish evenings
sleepless sweatful fretful bloodletting
this listless life we are dreaming
through,
sirens sifting out the weakest among you
snickering spirits lifting through the copper wires
the stars that dared refuse to hide their fires
are all burnt up a million miles from here.

I was alone.

As I often was.

As I often am.

Not that that’s a problem,
I am not really actually alone,
cos the speaks I am listening to are speaking to me of things to come
and in their cadence is the radiance of a divine equilibrium

and the sky, clearly
it’s full of ghosts
sometimes they’re just
skeletons dancing in sombreros.
Damsels kissing scarecrows.
Other shit that I pretend I can’t see so you won’t know.

I have wrapped on each finger the coil of the threads that I have undone
married to a web unwoven to be respun
The hairs on the back of my neck were being brushed up
by whispery fingers and I surrendered with the sun.

And the earth collapses into a red horizon.
And the bats come out of hiding.
Skim by me
saying ‘Katie,
what’s it like to never be alone?’

‘What’s it like to never be alone?’

‘What’s it like to never be alone?’

‘What’s it like to never be alone?’

‘What’s it like to never be alone?’

And a booming mouth opens in the water before me and says nothing,

until it says;

‘Just hurry up and go home’

On the concrete dock I swing my legs under my knees
lean forward
just before I throw the weight of me into simmering destiny
skyward I cast my eyes
to the tailbone of the little bear, whose daughter they say am I.
I answer the bats ‘do you know what? It’s fine.’
And I know
no one ever said it would be all ok,

and I guess I can be grateful that

at least no one ever lied.