The Elephant in the Room
There’s an elephant fills a lot of rooms–
(‘cause even when elephant hides, he looms–)
This elephant’s as elephant as elephants can be
(no shrimpy shrunken trunk has he).
Fellow roomers ape that they don’t see
the elephant squashing their settee,
the elephant slurping afternoon tea–
(by the bye, Earl Grey’s his favorite brew–
though bancha slips down smoothly too),
but see they do, though throats go dry
whene’er that pachyderm’s derm is nigh.
All wings fold flat, all steps mince small
“cause elephant don’t leave room at all
for swaying sleeves or dancing pants–
no, all free space is the elephant’s.
But sometimes roomers got to breathe.
Though O2 won’t make elephant leave,
they find when they straight-elephant talk,
that elephant beat retreat to sulk–
Down in a corner, down in a crack-
and folks can take their parlor back.
Soon, tail’s a tassle, hump’s a knob,
elephant tea’s left on the hob–
Sure, traces linger of elephant smell
but if folks try to cover it too damn well,
sharpen it will to a great big whiff
that signifies a new trunk’s sniff–
the trunk of an elephant come to stay
in its elephant elephant elephant way.
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I’m calling it a draft poem because it’s new and I’m a bit too tired to truly analyze rhyme and meter, so here’s a draft for dVerse Poets Pub’s Meeting the Bar prompt by the wonderful Victoria Slotto on Anaphora, which means the use of a repeated word. Followers know I have a thing about elephants – though I’m not sure they belong in rooms–

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