What Elephants Remember

[tectak]

V. 3
Hi Phil. I think I like this so am not inclined to brutalise with the Cudgel of Crit. There ae, however, some little quirks which might be deliberate, might not be. If I spot some nits it's because they are visible for me, and not necessarily to everyone else
What Elephants Remember

Behind the maps to water holes,"....maps to" not sure about. Usually "...directions to" or " maps of" or "maps showing". Compromise suggestion "Behind her maps showing water holes"
one matron keeps locked in drawersThis whole line, and the next, has become too humanised and is far removed from the simplistic thinking which I believe you are trying to instill in the beast. Talk of drawers and photographs is not elephant enough, if you get my drift. Compromise suggestion "She holds locked in cerebral recall
photographs of her mother's images of her mother's bones and silent ivory."
bone and silent ivory.

To a calf, those tusks had hungGet back the maternal imagery with "to her calf
overhead like strokes of thunder I like this astute observation but cannot get "strokes of thunder" metaphorically clear. CS."To a calf those tusks had thrust, overhead shards of lightening,
cleaved from a cloud of grey
chiseled from a cloud of grey,

stiffened into marble headstonesYour usual war of attrition with punctuation leaves this next stanza woefully open to misinterpretation
at the grave. The softened blades...and though I get the marble headstone bit I cannot get the "stiffened" link. It implies that the tusks were soft in life and stiff in death. Am I being too literal? Similar, if not identical, puzzlement with "softened blades". Are you trying to describe the gentle touch of the tusks, mother to calf? If so then say "gentle" as ..." the gentle touch"
and fed her mother when the fields

dried, and soothed her jaws when passing
teeth too old to grow again;
held her head when death refused.Yes to this imagery. It is nicely elephant....yet suitably empathetic enough to draw on human emotion. Very well done

Queens cannot give back a crown,
just a name to those buried
in Uganda grass, not knowing
how it hurts to forget.I can feel your mind working through this final stanza and would not even begin to disavow you of the joy and relief and satisfaction in this ending. I call this commitment verse....and I liked it a lot. I have a returning interest in this sort of anthropomorphising verse, as mentioned before with the "series" of poems I have embarked upon, and pinned up on this site, which so far includes Camels, Lions and (not completed) snakes. It is a very difficult discipline to get right , especially for you, the author. You did well to avoid the thinking trunk and the dumbo ears!
My pickiness is a distraction to detract me from my desire to launch an Exocet at your uniquely styled vessel. Even an Exocet would not sink you, I fear!
Best,
tectak







v2. still working on final stanza. minor changes thanks to billy

Matriarchs may store the most
in their cerebellum drawers:
shelves of maps to water holes,
photographs of their mothers'
bone and silent ivory,
white as marble torn from mines.

To a calf, those tusks had hung
in the air like strokes of thunder
chiseled from a cloud, only

to unravel into plated
pulp and blood as an adult,
who may pass a graveyard with
names for every body buried
in the softened grass, not knowing
how it hurts to forget, too.







V. 1
Matriarchs may store the most
in their cerebellum drawers:
shelves of maps to water holes,
photographs of their mothers'
bone and silent ivory,
white as marble in a field.

As a calf, those tusks had hung
in the air like strokes of thunder
chiseled from a cloud, only

to unravel into dentin,
pulp, and blood as an adult,
who may pass a graveyard with
names for every body buried
in the softened grass, not knowing
how it hurts to forget, too.