Ruby Gill

me, standing in one place for as long as possible

📸

a few hours after this photo was taken of me finding the sun, I found a small bat hanging in the rafters next to the lightbulb. the dog alerted me to her, the same way she alerts me to anything living. and to be honest, anything not living that she assumes is living, because she doesn’t know yet. like a glove. or a pumpkin off the vine. or a rock. maybe she knows more than us. or could just be a bit stupid. I love her either way and she was right about the bat. it stared right at me from the ceiling, before showing off with a few manic circles. I summoned the voice of Merlin Tuttle in my head and felt no fear. I thought about the bat who learnt who he was and said hello every time he entered the cave. I entertained the dream of a relationship like that for a second before remembering that time Angie found a dead bat in this exact lounge a few months ago and texted me a picture of the deceased. obviously would prefer not to repeat. so promptly ushered this particular bat outside by turning all the lights off and shining a torch into the trees out the door. a trick at the recommendation of my aunt. she followed the light and left me. I didn’t know that bats liked light. I didn’t know that I like bats. I thank the dog for the warning. we all go back to search for something living.

poem from page 14ish of “I’m not exaggerating when I say” about going to the cinema alone and lust that surprises and nightmares and relaxing finally after all those years of being so tightly wound / wounded