Catching the Moles
First we tamp down the ridges
that criss-cross the yard
then wait for the ground
to move again.
I hold the shoe box,
you, the trowel.
When I give you the signal
you dig in behind
and flip forward.
Out he pops into daylight,
blind velvet.
We nudge him into the box,
carry him down the hill.
Four times we’ve done it.
The children worry.
Have we let them all go
at the very same spot?
Will they find each other?
We can’t be sure ourselves,
only just beginning to learn
the fragile rules of uprooting.
that criss-cross the yard
then wait for the ground
to move again.
I hold the shoe box,
you, the trowel.
When I give you the signal
you dig in behind
and flip forward.
Out he pops into daylight,
blind velvet.
We nudge him into the box,
carry him down the hill.
Four times we’ve done it.
The children worry.
Have we let them all go
at the very same spot?
Will they find each other?
We can’t be sure ourselves,
only just beginning to learn
the fragile rules of uprooting.
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Disclaimer
We do not accept unsolicited submissions. American Life in Poetry is made possible by The Poetry Foundation (www.poetryfoundation.org), publisher of Poetry magazine. It is also supported by the Department of English at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln. Poem copyright © 1986 by Judith Kitchen, whose most recent book is the novel, The House on Eccles Road, Graywolf Press, 2004. Reprinted from Perennials, Anhinga Press, 1986, with permission of the author. Introduction copyright © 2024 by The Poetry Foundation.