Poetry – Elephants

Do not speak of Elephants

In rooms, on roofs

In threes or twos

In sweet corner shade

In solitude

This Elephant does stand

So proud

Staring down a silent crowd

Two tusks hanging thick as swords

Beckon, calling, trumpet

War

And then some soul does speak it’s name

And points out all their acts of shame

Cringing from the turn of heads

The elephant does blush in red

Does blush in red till crowds forget

Then greys in shadows under beds

Till full of pomp he rears again

And Elephant returns unsaid.