​Architecture for Elephants

​                           What I imagine is a monsoon, 

tree limbs as rafters, green leaves as shingles,

                           a herd of elephants gathered below

while the weather whips and tosses the world.

                            But I don’t live where behemoths roam,

crash through the house when I’m trying to sleep.

                           All I know of pachyderm behavior

comes from zoo enclosures and nature shows,

                           how they rub their hide against

whatever will take their weight, how they express

                           joy in pools of water, how they nuzzle

their young with those expressive trunks. In some parts

                            of the world, people build abstract

structures to share space with tuskers, to watch them

                           from mammoth observation platforms.

Ancient Romans carved these colossal creatures in relief

                           on marble panels—stone wrinkles,

stone eyes, stone blankets draped over

                           stone backs. I don’t want to mention

poachers, destruction of habitat, and all the atrocities

                           that come naturally to others

of my kind. Kind, meaning likeness,

                           not tenderness or beneficence.

For that, you need to witness an elephant caress 

                            the bones of loved ones long-dead

under the shelter of trees, trees reaching up into the rain.

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David B. Prather

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POETRY

David B. Prather is the author of the poetry collection, We Were Birds. His work has appeared in several print and online journals, including Prairie Schooner, Colorado Review, Sheila-Na-Gig, Seneca Review, The Literary Review, and many others. He studied acting at the National Shakespeare Conservatory in New York, and he studied writing at Warren Wilson College in North Carolina. You'll find him on Twitter @PratherRe

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