Mole Man

Ted arrives in a battered white pickup.

Large, hunched torso,

gnome-dome head,

white stubble, bald crown –

“grizzled” was coined for this guy.

Dirt-brown Carthart overalls

over an ancient white T,

acrylic hearing aid snailed in his ear

caterpillar eyebrows

and a wicked gleam in his eye.

He waves his mini-machete

flashes white dentures.

Let’s see what we got.

Bending on one plastic-guarded knee,

he digs up the snap-wire traps,

shakes his head, grins –

we’ll get ‘em next time.

He stabs the mud with his machete,

plants a plastic flag.

$20 per mole or gopher,

but his reward is the carcass.

Catherine McGuire is a writer/artist with a deep concern for our planet's future, with five decades of published poetry, six poetry chapbooks, a full-length poetry book,  Elegy for the 21st Century, a SF novel, Lifeline and book of short stories, The Dream Hunt and Other Tales. Find her at www.cathymcguire.com