Categories
Poetry

Giants and more…

By John Grey

Giants

The elephant enclosure

is dotted with heaps of hay.

Three giant gray thirty-somethings

jolt each other softly,

as trunkfuls of feed

are packed into open mouths.

A crowd gathers behind a fence,

watches these gentle behemoths

fills their massive bodies.

.

A sign nailed to a post

gives Latin name,

location in the wild,

color-codes Loxodonta Africana

as threatened.

Herds and habitat are shrinking.

There’s so little that can live

on such a grand scale.

.

The Law-giver

Shorter days panic

the apples into ripening.

Those that don’t fall

are plucked, fill buckets,

are trafficked from orchard

to ramshackle road-side shack

where scrawled sign and cheap scales

make for a fleeting Autumn store.

.

Bright red Washingtons are traded

for crisp green Washingtons.

A plush, juicy Granny Smith

is sold to a bent, age-smudged Granny Smith.

.

A gray-haired woman holds court

from her ancient lawn-chair,

while noisy children chase dogs

in and out of her legs.

.

A guy in a Buick drives up,

checks through a bushel so fresh,

the smell of the tree is still on their skin.

He scowls at the spots, the bruises.

.

The first law of apples is that

the scruffier the look, the tastier the fruit.

The red-cheeked woman in rumpled dress,

is the law-giver.

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in Sin Fronteras, Dalhousie Review and Qwerty with work upcoming in West Trade Review, Willard and Maple and Connecticut River Review.

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