The Batbat

MIDGE, you bitey speck from planet’s teeming fauna,
WRACKing larger peers, by stealth of smallness taking nips.
SONAR pings–you sucker, now meet your terminal bite:
FURRY, blind phantom of the night bats it wings, is on your six.

Titan Snores

APNEA autonomically belies body’s control,
TITAN, self-styled, can’t decree away,
NINNY, (is that you, Titan?), can’t knit up the raveled sleeve when he’s subject.
GAUNT we all, under circumstance, health and numbered days finally outside our grasp.