American Life in Poetry

Sun., Aug. 23, 2015

Ted Kooser U.S. Poet Laureate

Having been bitten by a rabid bat I was trying to save from a fire, I’d prefer never again to see bats up close. And here, in this poem by D.R. Goodman, who lives in California, I get to watch them from a safe distance.

Exiting the Night

By living late, and sleeping late, we miss

the moment when the bats come home to roost –

when crooked shadows flit in jagged loops

that seem to seek the chimney, seem to miss,

then somehow disappear into the eaves;

and they (the bats) tuck wing to fur to wing

in crevices and roof-beam beveling,

doze through our nearly diametric lives,

invisible as brown on brown – until

today, wakened by dreams, I caught a slight,

compelling corner-glimpse in gray first light,

of sudden motion in the mostly still

new dawn; and drawn, I rose to see the flight:

our dark companions exiting the night.

Poem copyright 2014 by D.R. Goodman from “Greed: A Confession” (Able Muse Press, 2014), and reprinted by permission of the author and publisher. American Life in Poetry is supported by the Poetry Foundation and the English department at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. We do not accept unsolicited submissions.