Elephants
in my backyard
do not bloom
or boom aloud;
they grow tall and green,
tilting in the wind;
they must be disinterred
after first frost in the fall.
Elephants haunt
dreams I cannot recall,
stick their ears in
conversations I regret.
Elephants don't forget.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem