Wedged Elephant

A study full of wedged-tight elephant,
his 90 degree shoulders corner-shaped
from too much fitting in. A compact box

of floppy eyebrowed, angled elephant
with mournful, slicked-down ears like leather drapes
and earnest yellow eyes.  He looks so shocked

by just-outside-the-window. Trees that taunt
by rubbing against roof tiles with a scrape
and creak, each time the wind blows; fat green stalks

squashed flat against the casement; a croissant
shop right across the street. He could escape
if it would only open; he just wants

to poke his trunk out. Edible? he asks,
confused by a creation we call glass.

Kathryn Jacobs

If you have any comments on this poem, Kathryn Jacobs  would be pleased to hear from you.