Murder by Bat
A horseshoe bat murdered my son, straight-out
Whacked him in his grave, no doubt about it.
That damn bat gave a virus to the raccoon dog
That sniffed out a ferret badger that inflicted
The viral stigma on the palm civet my son bought
In Paul’s Pet Store downtown. It went deep into
Gary, Jr.’s lungs, tripped up his immune system.
I have got to hand it to the scientific articles I read
In my obsessive-compulsive mourning. I learned
A pandemic is not simply academic. The bat to
Civet chain launched a weapon of mutation on bat
Wings that a cuddly pet civet brought into our home.
Roman Wild Ass
I’m here to tell you there’s an ancient
Roman siege machine, the Wild Ass,
Kin to the trebuchet and ballista. I
Found it referenced in a scholarly
Footnote, simply “the Wild Ass,”
Off the black and white, right in my
Eye, bango. I Googled Wild Ass (Do
Not try this at home): technical Latin
Term, onager. Eight soldiers operated
To hurl rocks at fortress walls. Smaller
Than the catapult, easier to build than
Two-armed ballista. I learned and saw
Much in my pursuit of the Wild Ass. It’s
Indeed shocking what serious scholarly
Inquiry can unveil. I mean really unveil.
G. Louis Heath, Ph.D., Berkeley, 1969, is Emeritus Professor, Ashford University, Clinton, Iowa. He enjoys reading his poems at open mics. He has published poems in a wide array of journals. His books include Leaves Of Maple and Long Dark River Casino.