There’s something dark and dank and mysterious about this poem. I feel that I don’t quite understanding it, yet I’m not confused by it either.

I’m not really sure what ‘cuckoo-spit season’ is but it sounds seedy…

I like the animalistic tone of the end; your closing: ‘What animal ravages its prey like that,/And doesn’t eat the reward?’ it gives way to the notion that only humans kill for fun. Keep up the good work.

Much love,
Juliet.

Jules, via the Review Marathon (links in my profile)

This poem really struck me with all its revolting beauty. You paint an image with your words, and I can really see this scene in my head.

The lines "What animal ravages its prey like that,/And doesn't eat the reward?" are stunning. Great job.

Good metaphor. Humans often destroy things just because they like to know that they still have that kind of power. The 'mole' imagery was both striking and vibrant. The 's sound' present in the poem mirrors the 's sound' of sleep (or death, in the mole's case). Excellent work. :D