The Year of Elephants

I held a banana out
yellow and whole she took it
there were only females
males are too aggressive, not safe
for the children

I watched as she snatched it
my banana
maneuvering that protruding limb
with a surprising grace

Her eyes were big black quarters
that lost the longing for trees
and stand within the ridges
of a grayness of face

She walked, lifting each side of herself
a weighted wooden marionette
who forgot if she liked the dancing
or died within it
as I crawled up on the neck
the hair stuck up like sharpened pencils
and the tusks bolted below
she can not know
what her ancestors died for

There were markings on the ears
warn from those years of cyclical
when all you bleed is progress
her crackled skin was punctured
by her only friend
chiseled from the machine
of man

When it ended
I looked upon those eyes a second
thinking, my God,
that could have been me
with the stolen gleam
of long, rotting story