for Andrew K. Peterson

the bats always come back
making music
striking against
my eyelids while I sleep

you say
this is you
getting
to know
me better

that if I were awake
the bats would
strike Tchaikovsky

and that my eyeballs
would leap from
their sockets

wearing my lids
as tutus
and I would
never know the
unconditional self

when I saw it
because I

wouldn't have eyes
to see it