Public Republic

Jill Koren

Photo: longhorndave

It flies up out of the tub drain
it is definitely a bat
but she has a human face

She shrieks at me and flaps
her leathery wings like a glove
thrown to the sky

(Lawrence’s beautiful image)
She squeals and dives
toward the round white porcelain

Wheeeeeeee! and plunges
into a waterslide of plumbing

Later I am eating
in some exotic land
And realize the dish before me

is Bat—
a delicacy in Kosrae— little ears
and chewy wings

all in a red sauce
It tastes greasy and gamey
as I imagine rat might.

I would rather be in Tonga
whose natives consider bats sacred
a physical form for a formless soul

but I am not in Tonga
I am in my own bed,
my own bed.