Mudlark No. 51 (2013)

And Inside Winged Beings Sleep

There was no electric light, but so much sun
in the tropics, and bunches of bananas
strung from the ceiling, yellow chandeliers
by day. By night, bats flew to them,
hollowing out the fruits and tunneling
entirely inside the extra skins. Our skins
and bodies were shown and shadowed
flawless in the lanterns’ slight, forgiving
light. For years, only smoothed forms
exited beds, unbent from wash tubs. How 
could today, compared, look? Thinking back
is a burrowing, a blinding, slipping deep
into the past’s pulp, scented and pearly.
The sticky wings fold in and still—

Rose McLarney | To Tell Us Why We’re Here 
Contents | Mudlark No. 51 (2013)