We squelched on, determined,
Two city-dwellers, in search of meadows,
Though the cows were shut up indoors,
A gray Saturday afternoon..
On the Berkshires
Moist moss almost fluorescin' in the gloom,
now, render the gentle slopes, treacherous.
Making my steps hesitant,
Like those of who-else-but-?
Our particular pachyderm on a downhill path,
suddenly confronted by the gravity of it.
"Their trunks are like snakes", my neighbor
Sheila had shuddered,
at the memory of them.
(from zoos? TV? Circus?)
Temple residents on weekly jaunts,
graciously accepting bananas from shy kids,
briskly swishing the marketplace flies
Brass bells (not trumpets) announce their arrival,
A hose-pipe-y-tap on the head, a benediction
Now,if you were really lucky, you would
be simply swept off your feet
Ivory banisters help along the slithery way
to a top-of-the-world perch for a short ride
"They are as gentle as grandmothers",
I had hastened to reassure Sheila
Me, the little way side nourisher.
"The African ones may be a little wild, maybe",
I said. Sounds decidedly racist.
{They sometimes turn rogue
trampled a patriot-poet underfoot.
A stamp-ed-ed martyr ?
I did not tell Sheila about Bharathi,
who died before 1947}
Malik Kafur, Khilji's general
A young Turk, sacker of several
South Indian kingdoms. Spared the diety
of Madame Fish-Eyes in 1311.
In Madurai
When the eight stone creatures
calmly ambled over to accept sugarcane
from an old care-taker of the place.
Handsome-God vanished in a trice,
The consort-in-an-avatar
His wife's honor was safe
A hallucinating Malik Kafur
beat a hasty retreat
Thought-elephants come alive
to rescue me
All the time.
| < |
Tilotamma - the original was a nymph who graced the celestial courts of Hindu gods. I live in Cambridge, Mass. This is my first published piece of poetry. |
In this issue:
Esther Altshul Helfgott : Michelle
Cameron : Alison Daniel : Deborah
Finch : Jean Frances :
Fiona Robyn : Elisabeth
Spinks : Sandy Steinman : Tasha
: Tilotamma : Georgie
Young