{"id":6074,"date":"2010-01-21T21:27:17","date_gmt":"2010-01-22T02:27:17","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.windturbinesyndrome.com\/static\/static\/?p=6074"},"modified":"2012-01-25T12:55:53","modified_gmt":"2012-01-25T17:55:53","slug":"three-poems-by-gail-atkinson-mair","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.windturbinesyndrome.com\/static\/2010\/three-poems-by-gail-atkinson-mair\/","title":{"rendered":""Three sorrows," Gail Atkinson-Mair (Italy)"},"content":{"rendered":"
\u00a0 The Moles<\/span><\/p>\n You call me to the window, not quite sure, <\/a> Home<\/span><\/p>\n She\u2019s like the flies that buzz around inside
\n<\/a>
\nUsed with appreciation, photographer unknown<\/span><\/p>\n
\n\u201cI really get the feeling we\u2019ve got fewer moles
\n\u2014must be the cat.\u201d\u00a0 An end to an unending war,
\nyou grin and raise your glass.\u00a0 You\u2019re right.\u00a0 The holes
\nthat spotty-dicked the grass and made me think
\nof crazy golf have by some miracle grown rare.\u00a0 I
\nfrown and look away, then crash the dishes in the sink
\nand fumble, ill at ease.\u00a0 Alarm bells ring\u2014but why?
\nThere\u2019s something not quite right today\u2014
\na smooth expanse of light rich green and not one
\nmole hill to be seen; a thousand velvet diggers gone.
\nWe look at one another and although
\nour mud-filled brains urge us to stay
\nour guts tell us\u2014it\u2019s time to go.<\/p>\n
\nUsed with appreciation, photographer unknown<\/span><\/p>\n
\nthe house, alight on window, table, chair
\nand then take off.\u00a0 She stands, she sits, she looks
\naround a moment, then she\u2019s off.\u00a0 Eyes wide
\nshe searches, checks, then stops.\u00a0 Smoothes hair
\nfrom face, swipes dust from books.
\nShe\u2019s pulled the plugs and fixtures out,
\nswitched off the mains, \u201cNot there,\u201d she said.
\nShe\u2019s gone outside and come back in,
\nIt isn\u2019t there.\u00a0 You know it\u2019s not!\u00a0 I want to shout
\nand make her stop.\u00a0 The buzzing in her head
\nwill drive her mad.\u00a0 She grabs the radio and plugs it in
\nthen plugs her ears.\u00a0 Her face is grey
\n\u201cStop it now,\u201d she screams at me, \u201cand make it go away.\u201d<\/p>\n