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Flying-Fox
(2 June 1840 – 11 January 1928 / Dorchester / England)

Flying-Fox

More rat than bird,
more superstition than fox,
you hang from that banyan
branch like a deflated black
umbrella and, when you flap
through the sky across a waxen
moon and the dead rise up
to haunt me, you're more
real than Batman.

With your razor-sharp teeth
you eat the ripe mangoes
and pawpaw in my plantation;
but wait until I catch you:
I'm going to skin you, gut you,
roast you, and eat you.
I'll enjoy the eating because
I'll be chewing Batman,
Count Dracula, and all superstitions
about vampires.

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Comments (3)

Around the house the flakes fly faster,   And all the berries now are gone  From holly and cotoneaster  Around the house. The flakes fly! - faster  Shutting indoors that crumb-outcaster  We used to see upon the lawn  Around the house. The flakes fly faster,   And all the berries now are gone! EXPLAIN
Triolets are difficult. I can think of very little I would want to repeat three times in a poem
Around the clock I read old Hardy Until the pages all are done. My dogs will call me worse than tardy around the clock. I read old Hardy Prose and poem as mind grows lardy And half my sanity is gone Around the clock. I read old Hardy Until the pages all are done.