midnight combat

A familiar sound stirred me from the maelstrom of sleep:
our ex-cat used to shake her head, flipping her ears;
the familiarity almost let me glide back into the flow,
but a flickering shadow swooped along the wall
like a twig caught on the outer edges of the swift current:
there was a bat in the bedroom.

I rose gasping from the sleepy current
I saw it circling swooping
I heard the flicker snap of its wings
I turned on the light

“What is it?” she gasped beside me
“Bat”.

Paradoxically
she both dove under the covers
and rose gasping completely
above the roaring rapids of midnight
Simultaneously
the frightened blinded bat
dove for the bottom
of the corner of the room.

“Go out into the hall and close the door”
She did.

Cautiously, I made my way
across the the fire zone
poking jungle vines aside
with the muzzle of my
steaming firearm.

I shone the flashlight down
into the dark corner.
The little pile of pale leaves
clung to the side of a knitting bag
camouflaged, ready to let loose
with grenades and heavy weapons fire

It was me or him
I thought ungrammatically
but appropriately

He was absolutely still
in my sites
I misspelled for the fun of it
because I had him.

In the end I carried
the bag, focusing the
flashlight’s beam
onto the little still
bundle of leaves
clinging to the side of it

It stayed on the bag
until I released it out the
back door into
the cold winter night.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/ Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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