Common Ground Farm, Outskirts, Olympia, Washington, Washington September 5, 2012
When I arrived, bringing a book on easing bodily pains, Greg sat at the table holding a diminutive, bedraggled bat tucked in his left hand. With his right, he fed her. Chicken fat
on a toothpick and in the bat’s enthusiasms the fat proved better, even, than meal worms. She was ravenous, worked her fanged mouth wide. Reached with a wing to pull the fat-dabbed
toothpick in whenever it withdrew. Famished for having been trapped, mistakenly, the night before, on flypaper; then rescued and unglued— no one knew if she’d eaten the trapped flies.
Talk wandered then: from bats to the glittering chitin in their guano, swifts stalling over chimney roosts, falcons clued to that, and aircraft crashing —having lost the horizon in Antarctica. Nancy
cleaved plucked chickens, with her whack severing thigh from drumstick, while Julie examined books to size the absent swifts, and for a long, long moment no one’s body ached.
Bill Yake lives with his wife, Jeannette, overlooking a salmon stream running to the Salish Sea. His poetry collections include This Old Riddle: Cormorants and Rain and Unfurl, Kite, and Veer (Radiolarian Press); his poems appear widely in anthologies and publications serving environmental and literary communities. These include Orion, Rattle, Cascadia Review, and NPR’s Krulwich’s Wonders. Waymaking by Moonlight, a gathering of Bill’s new and selected poems, will be published by Empty Bowl Press in November 2020.