Manic Moles

Tunnel around
Underground
Gardeners frown
Talk of the town
Multiple mounds
Culprit not found
Always astound
Furry brown clown
Without sight or sound
Crowned
King of our garden

Ménage à Trois

He helps her
To her feet
Beneath us
She burns
Trembles
His fingers
Caress hers
She responds

I peek
Over his shoulder
Glimpse brown skin
The piece of him
Unsafe to touch

I wrap myself
Around them
The world rushes
To meet us
Lost in we
Absorbing
Their energy
Confined
So free.

I hear
No sound
My feet
Meet
The ground
But don’t
Touch it.