Brother Mole

Eamon Grennan
 

Behold the mole
who has clawed himself
into a world of cubic centimeters
and stays there-
blind eyes on nothing, star-nose full of grit,
earth-smells he knows in his bones,
flashy pink hands hard at it,
while outside
the big world goes about its business
which he's worked his way from
and won't look back,
believing only
that light is a sword
in the hand of uncertainty,
that his hot-wired nerves
glow in the dark,
that his heart is.