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Nightfall with Bats

William Goresko 1951 (Philadelphia, PA) – 2008 (Willow Grove, PA)



As night meets day the sky grows grey
Along the seam that separates the two,
And from that crack on wings of black
Their ragged shapes come softly flitting through.

Bereft of sight they soar like kites
Whose crazy zig-zags etch the dusky sky,
Their leathery wings and silent pings
Cut through the dark to where their quarry fly.

I don't know from what haunts they come
Or where they go when dawn begins to break,
What dusty rooms set deep in gloom
They sleep their days and into twilight wake.

Nor do I know where reason goes
When heavy clouds enshroud man's fractious heart;
He blindly feeds on bloody deeds
That stain his soul and make the day turn dark.

And in his blurred and malformed world
The little things must bear part of the blame,
The toad, the cat, and yes, the bat,
Both they and others forced to share man's shame.

As day meets night the sky grows bright,
Along the seam the little bats fly home,
But the demons that afflict man's soul
They never sleep, they gnaw him to the bone.
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Submitted by cuwoodford on April 29, 2021

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William Goresko

William Goresko was an avid landscape photographer, a lover of backpacking and the outdoors, a voracious reader of classical literature and ardent fan of classical music as well as 60s rock and folk music. He also loved cooking and watching Sixers basketball games. He was a floor sander by trade. In 1984 at age 32 he was rendered quadriplegic in a car accident and lived for 24 more years. He retained his love of life and had a strong will to live. All poems were written a few years after the accident, typed one letter at a time, using a sip and puff device. Poems were submitted by his wife Cheryl. more…

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