Ivory and alabaster, awarded by my peers
conferences had applauded each experiment;
tenacious, I never stopped seeking a solution
and I broke through brick walls.
In Garamba, Paul spots an elephant calf,
deafened when its herd family was felled,
circling again and again around their corpses,
he feeds it milk; still, after thirty years, stares
at steel-pierced heads, scars where
tusks once were mark another ending.
Moulmein lasted a while, some extra days; it happens.
I now stay amidst bush and savannah;
nothing of my statue remains, I used
a mallet, crushed it to bits, never
to be turned to stone.
© Jeffrey Loffman