Mole

Mole

When I became a mole
I choked on mouthfuls of earth
until l got a taste for it and then I
gulped them down with a slimy worm. Delicious.

I am a digger, my arms as
squat as a lobster.
I swim in the black
and dive down mud slides. Whee hee!

Tree roots grunt as they
shovel past old glacial rocks.
My yellow, tombstone teeth
grind them, shredding them
into newspaper bits.

I pot hole around carrot stalagmites (not so delicious)
and rest in a starless cavern
with my nose resting on
a heartbeat of mole warmth.

A beetle lures me into
clear falls of air.
There are trills of sound,
whistles and yodels
and the creak of branches.
The stars are as bright
as jewelled grass.
A belly laugh rises.
I roll and wiggle and shake
until
I smell
them.
Laughter
hiccups
into
sobs.

Barbed wire crowns
my dead friends.

I dig
back
Into
black.