Elephant, July 13 2020

HOW DO YOU EAT AN ELEPHANT?

Surprise on Monday,

chewing glass and spitting blood

into the trash can.

Surprise, it’s not construction

but a small brown pony

looking like a stuffed toy,

broken, bloated in the sun,

at the edge of the front loader.

About to be cleared away

from drivers in metal cars

who don’t know if Amish children

in cobalt blue and coral

were cleared away earlier.

We drive on.

Hot leather bites bare legs

on the car seat.

Summer sets in, and sinks its teeth.

We remember the days of grief,

passions congealed, but reversible

by new offense, by fresh blood.

By the next evidence

of injustice.

There never was an innocent time

in our remembrance. Gardens are always

eager with their weeds. And the lettuce bolts

too soon. We look back and ask

whether we did anything good, or only made ourselves

impatient, and older. Hair unkempt, and pimples

in obvious places.

ONE BITE AT A TIME.

Devilish nymphs of lantern flies

suck the stems of anything green.

We try to smash them. We embarrass ourselves

in the attempt. One in four is too slow,

so we keep trying.

We chew the broken glass

mixed in the jar of salsa.

We spit beet juice and blood

into the porcelain sink.

We worry about our insides,

waiting to see what the damage will be

in the end of things.

There never was an innocent time

since we drew breath. It is almost

as if we asked for this. Building our webs

so slyly we forget which threads

are viscous. Prey to our own devices.

Shocked at the harm we do,

when all we’ve done is live

- like everyone else -

we use phones,

we drive cars.

Children shouldn’t be

on the highway with horses.

It really is a shame.

But this is what you get.

No use pretending

it’s the old days.

A moment of silence

to think about your feed,

and move on.

Pretty soon the elephants

will be extinct anyway;

all these rescues are corrupt.

Be glad you lived

in a day when you could witness greatness,

visit the zoo, breathe.

The water in a few places was still clean

enough to swim in, to feel light.

Frame this vista

and keep it for yourself,

to look at

and feel lonely in later,

when you forget the sticky crowds

and only see the blue, those hills,

not in memory, but in pixels.

Someone someday will earn your trust,

and you will show them your ivory tusk,

purchased at a steep price on the black market.

An investment,

because someday the elephants will all be extinct

and someone will need proof

they existed.