Word of Mouth
"Bat Boy, Break a Leg"
by Julia Kasdorf
The student with two studs in his nose
and a dragon tattoo crawling from his collar,
who seems always ready to swoon
from bliss or despair, now flits
At my office door. I will look at his poem
drawn onto a music score and find nothing
to say about chance or HIV.
Only later I'll think to tell him
the night before I left home, I slept
sadly in our old house until a wing
touched my cheek, tenderly as a breeze.
I woke to black fluttering at my feet,
and a mind fresh from the other side
said don't turn on the light, don't
Wake the man, don't scream or speak.
Go back to sleep. The next morning
I remembered that people upstate
whack them with tennis rackets, that
the Chinese character for good luck
resembles the character for bat—
both so unsettling and erratic—
but it's bad luck to say good luck
in China, as on stage where they say
Break a leg, so delicate bats
must be woven into silk brocade
and glazed onto porcelain plates.
Next morning, I found a big-eared mouse
with leather folded over his shoulders
hanging from claws stuck in a screen.
All day, my work made me forget, but
then I'd remember, passing the window
where he slept, shaded under the eaves.
He was fine. I was fine. Then at dusk,
he was gone, suddenly. Pale boy dressed in black,
Maybe the best that can be said for any of us is that
once we were angelic enough to sleep with strangers.
He touched my cheek. I opened the screen.
He flew in his time. We did no harm.
Watch Kasdorf read her poem, "Bat Boy, Break a Leg." (A QuickTime streamed movie will open in a smaller browser window.)
Julia Kasdorf, Ph.D., is associate professor of English and director of the MFA writing program. She can be reached at jmk28@psu.edu.
