The Elephant

There’s a porcelain elephant

In the room with amethyst

Veins twisting up the four spires 

Of off-white towers not quite

Snow pure, but haughty enough

To lord over paper mâché 

Swans too fat to take off,

Light enough to toss

With copper-tipped tusks

During a stampede,

Full trumpets blaring.

Had it been less ornate,

The glare from the sun

Would not block its jade

Eyes from seeing the cracks

In the glass world racing

Towards it, to hear

The beating wings

Leave it for destruction.

Reviews

[Wandering Violet]

Interesting viewpoint, fascinating concept. I like it!