Big Yellow Moles Poem by Diana van den Berg

BIG YELLOW MOLES

Flicka, my darling horse,

you know, in Yellowwood Park...

- do you remember the Yellowwood Park Stables
I rode you to
when you first became mine
and Tania’s
and Chrisjan’s,
and where you lived for
the first four years
you were ours,
and the duck slept in your stable? -

as I was saying,
and as you know,
for the last couple of months,
there is road construction
and re-laying of waterpipes,
everywhere in Yellowwood Park,

and everybody,
(including me)
is complaining
about the detours
and the inconvenience
and the fences
that have been taken down,
and the huge concrete piping
and the piles of soil
on the side of the road,
and the crime
that is taking place
around it all,
and the time
it is taking to finish the construction work...

but those big yellow graders,
my Flicka boy,
oh no,
not them my darling horse,
I am not complaining about them
and
never
ever
could
and
never
ever
will.

Since the day you died
and my heart
and lungs
and stomach
were
wrenched
out of my body
and strewn
in miniscule, rough-edged pieces,
I know not where,

- since that day
when Karin
organised
for a large,
kind,
yellow,
mechanical
mole
to dig
your grave,
I have had
such a soft spot
for large, yellow graders.

Anybody
or
anything
that does
anything good
for you, my darling horse,
or reminds me of you
even more
than I think of you all the time,
is my close and revered
and much loved
friend
for
life.

22 July 2009