on the outskirts of town
we paused at the parapet
reflecting on what we’d been told
of the badlands –
ancient,
archaeologically mute,
trodden –
remains perhaps of
The Temple, East –
and decided to venture over
on poor soil
rocks
dust that clung to
worn hillocks
out of sight now
of the city –
and saw the
monstrous elephant –
charcoal against the sands
its head deliberately
rocking as though to repudiate –
and the natives –
they were dark and huddled
they clutched the
leathery coat where they could,
their legs hitched up –
limpets taken
wherever the vast beast determined –
and we wondered –
why do the natives
so faithfully cling?
