The Elephant Derby

Wasn't it yesterday when they were
from sunrise to sunset or before
we wake to ward off evil

there's the dropping of anchors
through the ceiling into the clank of private

places where we couldn't hide
the walls shook
the photo of grandmother shook
as if her laughter crossed

from grave to nook

"the bottom floor's for peasants"

she gave me the right of displeasure
to shake my fist at the ceiling
curse their names and smile
when I heard a wailing cry

sometime lying between the curve
and your thigh, keep it steady

the horns and the spades
tail and tell the story never ends

a constant thunder
thrown in with, thud

thump and that wail
like murders happen
here in my province
the elephant derby
defiantley tromps on.