You will be a fruit bat in the next life,
a flying fox, megachiroptera, draping
red fur with five foot black wings, sturdy-thin
like a contractor’s bag, suspended
from a langsat tree, you’ll sleep soundly.
I’ll be a guava, draping too, like you,
with green flesh holding pink-red spoils—
my body’s sweet bounty, stocked with seeds.
On your daily hunts, slicing the forest
above-and-below canopy, your nose—
tuned to ripening scents—vibrates and perks;
I am reverberating, my seeds need
spreading. Your body, incubator,
could carry me across the forest, vast
only world we both know. I’ve brought skin
to bursting for you—I ask that you taste.