at the first stretch of spring
mosquitoes buzz like sirens in my ears
clouding the air with soft warnings
their hunger makes me restless
but then—
the bats arrive without a whisper
carving the twilight with sharp arcs
their wings slicing through the evening
they fly like chaos given shape
their rhythm deliberate and unafraid
kamikaze bodies grazing my skin
so close i can hear their hunger
dipping low, feasting on what bites me
guardians cloaked in shadows and instinct
i stand still on the porch at dusk
watching them devour the nuisance
i wonder if they see me here
a ghost on two legs, absent of wings
do they reach for me by mistake
before they vanish into the night?