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Process.ion 25, Urte Laukaityte

And what of that black bat

who wove through the yard

in the early evening?

Did it see us? 

Our synchronized eyes

fixed to its wild circuit

which just grazed the surface 

of the swimming pool

before its upswing into the Kayce’s yard.

If it saw us, could it have cared?

I know it roves instinctually

through this suburban night

as I write triangle teeth

into the tiny cave of its mouth

but even so, I like to imagine 

it conjures our image

in daytime dreams, infrared vision

of you and I side by side in the water,

mouths slightly agape —

blazing phantasmagoria

in which night never falls and

the desert oracles pass

over our heads like shooting stars.