the elephant has left the room
disguised as many gray trees
this isn’t a political poem
missing elephants are everywhere
at the end of November
one needs a woolly coat
but there’s a certain slant of light
that induces mild euphoria
let’s all raise our arms
to summon an old flame
red crest of the good god bird
no ordinary peckerwood
cackling down at me
in my red checked cap
just before dusk a rifle booms
and i remember what moon this is
it looks so much less mammoth
once it escapes the trees
