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Moles.

 where is his hat where is his horse where is his harrier my
beloved is distraught he made this yard each blade each stem each stalk
except the mounds of flesh dirt like little graves it's moles
 that make the mounds when they make holes they're worms with fur
the cats don't like the wormy part they're stalking rooks and
mice beloved has scattered human hair across the sod it keeps the deer
away
he installed equipment with a high-pitched hum it keeps the dogs out of
the yard who might have otherwise unearthed a mole too bad traps
don't work the way they do for squirrels my father
used to thrust the hose down one hole and flood them out beloved does
not care what my father did this greensward is his joy his job my job
was children food house the rest of what I did stayed underground 
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Title Annotation:ten poems
Author:Voigt, Ellen Bryant
Publication:The American Poetry Review
Article Type:Poem
Geographic Code:1USA
Date:Jul 1, 2011
Words:188
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