Batfall - by
Nightshade’s nightshift is just beginning.
Here are the bats to addle the dark.
Come this late hour they appear
to oar the air — inklings winging
Nightshade’s nightshift is just beginning.
Here are the bats to addle the dark.
Come this late hour they appear
to oar the air — inklings winging
Cáit O’Neill McCullagh began writing poetry at home in Easter Ross, in the Scottish Highlands, in 2021. Her poems have been published widely in journals,
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Crivens! This is jist typical.
When it comes tae talking aboot me,
well, A’ jist clam up. Canny think whit
tae say.
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Dae some feals still believe the Earth is flat?
Kin ye imagine haein the chikk
tae caa iss solar system ‘oors’?
As if sharin atoms wae it gies us first dibs?
In Wedderburn’s rare monolog
the scheiphirde telt us hou
aa stars stud but an ainly sphere –
it isnae like that nou.
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