The Only Good Bat

Rodent on the ghostly wing
When night and day have mated,
You stand (or hang) for everything
That I have ever hated.

That dewy brand of sentiment
Which loves your furry ears
Has never put a single dent
In my recurrent fears.

My dandruff starts to palpitate
When I observe you swoop.
I think of you as fearful, fate.
I am not bat-a-hoop.

Protectionists may call this myth,
But it is sheer abhorrence,
Despite the fact it teams me with
That David Herbert Lawrence.

From Rime Present