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Granma and the Bats - Tim Goldstone

At dusk granma would

stand stock still outside,

only her long thin hair moving

in the breeze,

waiting there until the bats started

to flit and zigzag and dip and uplift over

her garden. Then one by one they would

land on her outstretched fingers

at the end of her outstretched arms

until she had ten little bats hanging

upside down from each of her fingers.

This, she said, was why she wore no rings,

for precious metal and gems will send a bat’s

echo-location system into orbit

and launch each bat out

to the far ends of the universe,

and we giggled because we were children.

We know better now.


Bio:

Tim Goldstone’s poems and stories are published or forthcoming in numerous journals and anthologies – ranging from The Mechanics' Institute Review Anthology to The Mambo Academy of Kitty Wang; Flash: The International Short-Short Story Magazine to Veil: Journal of Darker Musings. Scripts broadcast on TV and radio. Twitter @muddygold

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