I am an ordinary room.
Close to the walls,
making myself small.
Far from the hearth
never mind the embers or coals.
I wrote myself a note and left it
on the counter of my dream-
Don’t feed the elephants
But I forgot to remind myself
what I could possibly mean.
Unspoken in the center
where I have no part
I am an ordinary room
suffering the elephants
of my heart.
-JA 2013
I love when things point at things other than what other people would point at things with…
somewhere within our minds is an index and glossary of terms, no one is like any other.
lovely mundane elegance of “Don’t feed the elephants” on the “counter of your dreams”…
Thanks, Tasha.