‘Trumpet’

The elephant trumpeted,

and I sat

at my room-

thunderous and silent.

The elephant’s trunk

raised of victory,

or resilience.

I was thinking of

victory, or

resilience.

There was a silent uproar,

where is the elephant?

Recalling breadfruit and

the girls, their

sixteen positions at sand.

I was talking about the elephant,

its trumpet towards my room.

Again, thoughts of the bourgeois,

thoughts of the bourgeois.

I will let that down,

killing those for

my good.

Howdy brother, tell if

I am sitting over the rusted elephant?