Mouldywarp Poem by Kathy Greethurst

He's a darling of darksome darkness,
kingdom of blacknight's baron, bristly brawn mole
basking in the dawn-dew on the rampart around his home.

Eyes clothed in velvet, reflections in his plush-pile fur, deep en rêve,
he is roused by the scent of worms copulating in the cool soil below. What
excitement! Off and forth, swimming, his salmon snout, wild, jump and dive.

Spindly fingers twist, tunnel and dig to trap his unsuspecting prey. Paralysed
in a single saliva-shot, he drags them through a labyrinth to his chamber.
Famished and free to feast, he squeezes the boneless cylinders.

The keeper ignites tinder, smokes out the vermin.
Savage, smarting, singed - he rises from his tunnel.
A sharp blade severs his head, spits vermilion.