Elephant Poem by Fleance Candide

So where are your mammoths?
Thundering, blundering into the ghosts

Of elephants; trumpet and tusks
Cry out, lash out, at the boasts

Of hunters; whose fun with a gun
Has turned kings into blooded roasts

For vultures; tooth and claw defiling
The rotten blubberous beast. But a chorus

Of locusts buzzing. The swarm that will
Suck the life out of murdering poacher’s

Fields; parched, dry. Now hunger. Dead.
Like the leathered giant who suffered most

By the rifle; a weapon to beat off an army of bugs?
Pah! He who shot the elephant dies slow’st.