I’m alive

                 I        

 

 

For a promised letter I waited for weeks

from my friend, tired of life. Sad,

in his well-equipped home

with gadgets, computers, a drone. 

 

His wife died 10 years ago; his heart hung

on his chest like a stone.

Now the piano sold, the vacuum cleaner gone

to the woman who had tidied his rooms.

 

In the rain it arrived, now all drenched.

A postwoman took it along 

handed it in.

Some detective work she said 

as the address was put wrong. 

 

I unwrapped the small gift and found eight

Of the tiniest elephants. A good bye -

Was he gone?

 

I let out a cry, I gathered them up, the white ones 

some in silver, some brown. There was blood on my hand, 

a touch of vermilion.

 

Next day, I heard, he had asked for more insulin, 

the doctor straight took him in -

the hospital ward. A brief stay: I’m alive.

 

Back in the house, out of tune-

he tamped down his fears, went to bed.

He switched off the lamp.

 

He has shrunk

like a deflated balloon.

 

                II

There is a herd of miniature elephants 

in my cabinet of curiosities

walking in a circle

large, smaller, smallest.

 

When I look at them I  have to move them

One after the other

to make a row

 

A charm against enclosure

Lurking in the mind

 

A  charm against an ending

Murmurs in the dark

 

A charm against the elephant ghost 

Carrying away my memories -