Pests

Bill has been killing moles,
their fine-sieved hillocks
have spoiled the smooth of his field.
Two corpses embellish a gate.

Molecatchers hung them on strings, a queen
once made fur wraps of them.
Their hands are marvellous, the manicured nails
the soft pink palms.

This pair have been skewered on posts
which once were purposefully alive.
They should be lying unblemished and quiet
in the soft earth of their making.

Ann Pilling 2024

This poem appears in "In Flight" published by Mudfog Press. For details click here.