Vampires and cough

VAMPIRE BATS

Vampire bats could be called

Primitive communists by an ignorant man

A very ignorant man

Who does not have leather winged night flight

Who cannot ride out over dark lands

On rising thermals from

Cooling desert and scrubland

Following the red scent that remains

A trace on the air

And vampires don’t sniff after spilt blood

Like stupid sharks

They smell it live

Still pulsing through veins

They smell it and swoop down to it

Their scalpel sharp incisors slit

The man, horse, cow or mule

Feels nothing

As the bat drinks a batful

Spits a little anti-coagulant in the wound

And leaves on leather wings

Up into the night skies

Back to bat roost

Where it gives blood

Not just to its own babes, kin and co-genetics

like some tight arsed dawkins

But any bat of the commune may share

Any who is needy may drink

What is batmine is batyours

And then sophisticated communists sleep

The sleep of the just

All day upside down

under leather wings.

I COUGH IT UP,

I cough it up,

Hweeerrargh Kuh

The flob globule launches

Severs the phlegm strings

That moored it to the back of my throat

Phwerrapperaurgh

It is in flight now

Becomes aerodynamic, mini mucus zeppelin

Flying through broken battlements of teeth

And into open air

Spit rocket crosses

A small trajectory of bathroom airspace

And spaltlands sinkside

Flattened by its own impact

Against white porcelain cliff

And ambivalently slides down

Is it live or is it slime?

It was once part of what I’m

But now

After it has flown once

It slides down hill all the way

To the plughole

Where swirled by tapwater vortex

It twirls round into oblivion

Like a galaxy into a blackhole

And is gorn, gorn, gorn