In all our sanctuaries we sit at risk

Moles Poem



I must keep a close watch 
on the mole-hills clustered 
around the fences of my house. 

I feel sure there'll come a time 
when moles will emerge 
from those surprisingly 

massive eruptions 
of earth they've created - 
and each will be carrying binoculars 

and waving a flag. 
And the flags 
will not be white ones. 

And the binoculars will all be turned 
in my directions and the flags 
will have my name on them. 

'There he blows !' the moles will cry. 
'Charge !' 
And all the moles 

will vanish underground again 
and new mole-hills 
will start appearing in straight lines 

and these will advance 
at greater and greater speed, 
each mole-hill like a puff of loamy smoke 

or a further dark stitch across the ground : 
and all in the direction of me - 
my frontiers 

my barricades 
my walls 
my foundations... 

I have no answer or solution 
to this hovering multitude of moles. 
It's as if I'm hanging 

helpless here in my house 
like a fly already trussed up 
in a cobweb 

just waiting for them to arrive. 
They are free to molest me 
at will and at leisure - 

child's play 

Rogan Wolf