The size and shape of a teabag,
you raise your head towards me.
You seem to sniff and hunt;
your ancient face inquires,
tracking down your prey.
A primal connection is made.
I know you’re just a pup
but something older searches
through you. Something wise.
Unbidden memories of
childhood nightmares emerge,
of figures scaling walls,
bite marks, and syphoned life.
I tell myself you’re lost
and looking for your mum,
a cute and vulnerable child.
Subconsciously my fingers
search my open neck.

Late last night we discovered a bat pup clawing its way along our downstairs corridor. Somehow it’s made its way from the loft where we have discovered we have a maternity roost somewhere tucked out of sight. It was strangely cute and vulnerable, and yet at the same time… It’s now with a local bat volunteer as we weren’t able to locate its mum.
(21.06.26)

© Ben Quant 2026