Bat Wrapped In Duct Tape

Bat Wrapped In Duct Tape

Bat wrapped in duct tape
nails crooked
heart pounding

Trash-can Excalibur
held together by rage and panic
you don’t want glory
you want everyone you love
eating breakfast tomorrow

If something comes through
that invisible crack in the world
you plan to meet it swinging

In a cluttered garage
full of busted bikes
oil stains
and forgotten science fair projects
a kid builds a weapon
nobody taught in any class

Old bat scavenged from a corner
grip cracked
handle sticky from a decade
of sweaty palms

Nails hammered in along the barrel
crooked teeth waiting
for something more solid
than softballs

Duct tape wound tight
around splinters and metal
ugly silver halo
around splattered wood

This isn’t about being a hero
not really
more about wanting your hands
on something heavier than fear

You swing in the air a few times
feel the weight pull forward
almost yanking you off balance

Imagination paints targets
on everything
monsters that don’t have names
in any field guide
your teachers hand out

Behind every practice swing
is the quiet thought
that this town asks too much
from kids who still get grounded
for late curfews

They hand you textbooks
you reach for tools
nobody writes instructions
for the kind of night
you feel coming

Hands blister
knuckles tear
every practice hit
against a hanging tire
rings through your arms

You picture jaws
tentacles
claws
shapes that don’t belong on earth

In your mind
every swing lands
every strike buys one more day
of bikes and cartoons
and dumb crushes

In reality
you hope you never need
to test the weight of those nails
against anything warm