Perhaps We Are Then.... Poem by Eric Cockrell

perhaps we are then elephants,
tiptoeing in forbidden flower beds,
drinking tea from cracked cups,
in a kitchen that needs to be swept!
or small burning things,
that no longer have form.
the cat in the window
of the abandoned house!
clothes waiting to be ironed,
potatoes waiting to be peeled.
hymnals in jail cells,
the book under the bed.
feet that need washed,
the knife grown dull.
the grave unmarked,
neath the tree that weeps!