The Bats. Poem by Durlabh Singh

Dark dark the jocund space with downy flesh
Black bannered hideous gloomier than rest
Under the low hanging tattered rugged sky
Float clouds dark tortured low lit as night.

A shoal of bats deep as rust
Tight footed damp smeared descend
Over the houses streets and creeks
Invading the dark deep dungeons in heaps.

The dungeon of my brain creeks and racks
While the shoal of obnoxious foxes descend
Each one fighting and probing deeper headed
Sucking last drainage of my refelled blood.

The fury of my blood has made them blind
In bunches they grope shriek and prowl
Blinded nerve rotten hindered to crawl.

Tired and thick with banging their heads
Against rafters spokes nails and knives
Hopelessly will hang themselves over cobwebs
Dimly constrained lured dumb and defied.

There they will hang like hope forlorn
Pitted from the depth drums will be sounded
The likes & days of noisier time will sanction
The shades of escape then will be outbounded
Hands of doom will climb to clutch their forms
And squeeze their brains along bloody hawthorn.