Camera obscura

 
We withdrew
underground.

The sun molested us,
horror dressed up in gold.

We have been
subjected to rays,
hard-watted searchlight-beams
probing our prolix eyes
whose ceaseless script is not for crowds, is for
the private crew
we whisper to
in eyelash tongue.

Us we’re not meant for warmth,
we’ll take no
aureoles.

We orchestrate
shows in
tenebrae.

But night and day
the light stalked us,
trying to infiltrate,
tracking our thoughts,
profiling our faces that only begged
to move and grin unseen,
unrecognised.

We only wished to morph at will,
exempted by photons.

Daylight slapped us
heavy-handed,
bred bathos from blinding brightness,
exposed

too much.
 
 
We fled
to the dark room

for the wicked and the trembling,
the best of our vintage. The world
we want it dim, we’ll ignite it
ourselves
from our recoin, with our fossils.

Sparks in black box rise like
great fireworks.
 
 
 
My bats,
we’ll always be
of the darkness, claustrophobia
and of the confined space. We’ll always eat
meats from our laps, discuss science and ends, heart stops,
in the narrow antechambers we used to know as home,

watch all happen
on a small screen

from the confines

of a gnawing obscurity.

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