Posts by Zoe Klein
the most deadly animal on earth for people is the mosquito
the most deadly animal on earth for people is the mosquito.
and I eat thousands of mosquitos each and every night!
next time you are sitting sipping summer tea in your gazebo,
you may long for bats to rescue you and take away your plight.
we are happy to help!
another deadly animal for humans is the hippo.
sadly bats don’t hunger for the hippopotamus.
so when you take your boat out or decide to take a dip-o,
we couldn’t help you with that hulk, even if there were a lot of us.
you’ll have to save yourself!
Read Moreharem love song
this is a love story between my little harem and me.
it takes place in a kenyan cave by the indian sea.
there i declare abounding love. (times three.)
in sensual ceremony for the conferral
of my throat gland secretion on your apparel,
in our coastal love-cave of fossils and coral,
what expression of love could be more natural?
oh how much i adore you! (that’s you plural.)
this is a love story between my little harem and me.
it takes place in a kenyan cave by the indian sea.
our love fills the world most redolently.
i’ve a gland on my throat, near my beard, just under,
i rub my wings against it until i am covered,
and i press it on you so that no one will wonder
whether or not we belong to each other.
isn’t it romantic, my lover? (that’s lovers.)
this is a love story between my little harem and me.
it takes place in a kenyan cave by the indian sea.
no ritual conveys love more beautifully.
sometimes i think my throat gland is a cure-all.
this scent-marking is a bouquet for our nostrils,
painting with perfume a piquant air mural
declaring for all that my love is eternal.
how fervently i love you! (that’s you plural.)
this is a love story between my little harem and me.
it takes place in a kenyan cave by the indian sea.
i love you, darling (darlings), devotedly.
some show their commitment with rings on the finger.
or long soliloquies, if you’re an overthinker.
or he will find jewels and chocolates to bring her,
and dine her with steaks, and wine her with liquor,
but i prefer signature scents that will linger.
this is a love story between my little harem and me.
it takes place in a kenyan cave by the indian sea.
i love you my only paramour! (times three.)
mama mauritian tomb bat
mama mauritian tomb bat,
remember when i was young?
when i was a baby tomb bat,
and to your breast i clung?
mama mauritian tomb bat,
remember when i grew?
i learned to fly but didn’t want
to let go holding you.
mama mauritian tomb bat,
remember what you said?
“too big for my breast but you can
cling to my back instead.”
and so i climbed upon your back,
mauritian tomb bat mama.
you assured me i could stay that way
as long as i did wanna.
then one day i was ready
to venture off on my own.
oh mama mauritian tomb bat,
i am now on my own.
mauritian tomb bat mama
roosting in babalala…
i hope i see you again mama,
smiling in babalala.
thank you mauritian mama,
you were my magic carpet.
you kept me safe from trauma.
you were my soothing blanket.
thank you mauritian mama,
you gave of yourself in profusion.
nature did give me these wings,
but you taught me how to use them.
i am the flower-faced bat
i am the flower-faced bat,
adorned with petal and leaf.
my face looks a lotus flower
or a painting by georgia o’keefe.
the king of lesbos’s daughter
welcome to our genus!
the nocturnal nyctimene.
you likely have not seen us,
we don’t like to be seen.
nyctimene, in roman myth,
was the king of lesbos’s daughter,
and according to the legend
was assaulted by her father.
she fled to the forest, deeply scarred
by her father’s deed most foul.
the goddess minerva found her there
and turned her into an owl.
nyctimene hid from the light
out of her sorrow and shame.
minerva took pity on her soul.
nocturnal owl she became.
someone thought to give this name
to us, the tube-nosed bat.
i don’t like it. firstly, we’re not owls!
but it goes further than that.
the story is so negative,
and i’m not sure which is worst,
that it implies nocturnal creatures’
origins are accursed,
or that nyctimene had to hide
inside the forest deep,
robbed of her humanity
when her father was the creep.
why did minerva not turn him
into a creeping bug or such?
the other thing about this myth
that bothers me so much
is the way that the darkness
is treated with disrespect,
as if it hides evils and sins,
when really it heals and protects.
my namesake troubles me,
regardless, i’m glad with who i am.
i hang from a twig eating a fig
and carry on, thank you ma’am.
the ripening
a song of ripening:
the transformation of a tree
takes place with grace and subtlety.
it integrates sunlight and showers,
drinking the clouds into its flowers.
there’s nothing more enlightening
than to be present for the ripening!
its fragile petals slowly morph
into green fists grasping a core.
i circle the grove night after night
patiently checking with each flight
until the fruit begins to deepen,
showing the pulp’s begun to sweeten.
i wait for these hard hearts of stone
to soften when they are full grown.
there’s nothing more enlightening
than to be present for the ripening!
if i’m inattentive, i’ll have missed it,
impressions where the sun has kissed it,
others who waste all their time rushing
miss the magic of a tree’s blushing,
metamorphizing its phenotype
as all its fruit become dark and ripe.
it’s an enchanted time window
as these bombs of nutrition grow
before their skin bursts and explodes
dispersing the tree’s dna code
to mulch into the forest loam.
i am patient. i do not roam.
i wait until the precise moment
before the juices start to ferment,
that point when the tree’s fully bedecked in
luscious and mushy, blushing and beckon-
ing bundles, oh the ripening!
there’s nothing more enlightening
than to be present for the ripening!
social distance
some bats like to cluster
to keep each other warm.
but if they get too close to me,
i’ll jab them with my thumb.
i do not intend to hurt them
or do them any harm.
give me a radius of space
and closer do not come.
sampling many muffins
i guess one could admire
the gibbon and the beaver,
loyal true monogamists
no pain would make him leave her.
i suppose there are virtues
to discipline and control,
faith and love and high ideals,
refinement of the soul.
and so hooray for you,
wolves and voles and puffins.
but as for me, i’ll blissfully
be sampling many muffins.
let them judge and poopoo
the downfall of society.
i change my roost every week
for what i love is variety.
welcome to the ark, climb aboard!
I am writing one poem for every species of mammal on earth, starting with bats! Did you know that almost every ecosystem on earth was shaped, in part, by bats? Click “read more” and subscribe for a celebration of animals, colorful illustrations, philosophy that will make you go hmm, facts that will make you go wha?, and lots of fun. When I finally finish the 1,500 bat poems, we are going to have a big party and I want you to be a part of it!
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