Bats

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?