The Taming Of The Mole

Into the bowels of the city centre
far, far from the world outside,
we raced towards our toilet sanctuary
down steps that were forever wet.

Glancing nervously around for demons
as the statutory dripping taps clapped us home.
The stench of ripened piss made us gag,
but the fear of being outside sickened us more.

Below my holed, black school shoes
teetered as they siphoned up the rancid filth.
Above the drone of fifty thousand oblivious footsteps
went about their business on much fresher, drier feet.

To our left the sweetly stinking urinals
Drowned chewing gum and tab ends that stemmed the flow.
Newly introduced curls of pubic hair entwined and danced
in the cool breeze blowing down from the street.

To our right were a brace of tired out, black chipped mirrors
that would never again smile back.
To the rear were all the reasons for my brother and I
to be guests in this windowless, soul-less hole.

In this place where ammonia and pure lemon citrus
fought for dominance of the air,
we would wait until the school bell rang out in the distance,
if only we could survive that long.

To our fore our cubicle of salvation, eagerly drew us in,
go inside little boys, let us both for a while play hide.
This would be our daytime home for the foreseeable future,
but it was dry and anonymous, so we should not complain.

From out of my pocket I took out my penknife
to make good the pointless lock.
Then perched like invisible birds upon the toilet rim,
we sat in silence until it was time to go home.

We sensed you from the first time on that cold September day,
you had trapped us then forever whilst you decided on your play.
At first the gentle tapping, as prelude to your real intent,
you held us in suspension, petrified and cold.

For days you intimidated with just silence,
could you not believe your luck?
For as we cowered in blind confusion,
you held us there in suspense.

Then as the boldness took you over,
your words fell down like molten rain.
As you tried to engage us in kindness
in an effort to discover first, our names.

So many ways that you tried to entice us,
matched by so many ways we equally defied.
Even money pushed under the barrier between us
failed to form a contract between you and us.

But there in the background, as the taps grew impatient
your lust overcame your fear.
These lost little souls would be yours for the finding,
surely now just a matter of time.

Only when your endless scraping broke through the wall
and your bloodshot eyeball first came into view,
would we realise that you were the true meaning of terror
and that we were completely snared.

"Touch me, just touch me and I promise that I will go!"
"Just kiss on all that I send you through this party wall!
As your frantic digging turned the peephole to a cavern
before our astonished, fear-filled eyes.

Look at this little treasure, you will not believe it's real!
as your shiny dark phallus pushed home.
So I grabbed it and kicked it, just me versus evil,
I would not, could not, must not let you draw it back.

Then removing my knife from the door barring entry,
I deliberately sank it in.
Imagining your face and your insatiable hunger,
I instantly wiped away your disgusting grin.

You were now the one left screaming,
As the balance of power quickly changed.
And your pathetic pleading and begging for mercy
Fell silent upon our innocence and covered ears.

I still have dreams I may have killed you
and I am happy to pay the price.
You tried impose on us your grotesque pleasure,
but you will never hunt there again.

Neil Graham Marsden