Everyone wants to fly.
Not as many by way of cannon fire.
As a child I had the pleasure
of seeing an unemployed batman
take to the sky. Not as grim crime fighter
but half-clown satyr. Knowing
only too late the man who dawned
the cape was desperate to feed his family
after falling from grace like a half-known satire
about Icaris. How the spotlight tanned the skin
pulling at the edge of a proud smile – his mask slightly askew.
A pause. Perfect posture. Then a bow. More
a hero in that moment then the imagination
of countless children. Myself included.
Whoosh. Wham. That was our batman.