When Only a Crayon Will Do, by Joanne Godley

Untitled (Say Goodbye Catullus, to the Shores of Asia Minor), by Cy Twombly (USA) 1994. photo by Keith Ewing. CC BY-NC 2.0 via Flickr.

When Only a Crayon Will Do
 
I wrote a missive from the highlands of Northern Thailand:
where my ascension triggered impetuous nosebleeds.
I scribbled a sonnet; I dabbled in differences. 
Between proboscidean mammals from Africa and Asia,
Asian elephants are the more diminutive of the two.
On a narrow, winding mountain path, I fretted the flimsy basket 
in which I perched, atop a skittish, six-ton, grey-brown beast.
With his smaller ears, twin-domed head, and male-gendered tusks, 
I worried for him, fearful he might misstep.
National Geographic reports that elephant depression is real. 
I wrote of blinders, saffron heart bombs, and nested tiny bluebirds, 
and all the purple cloud-tunnels I recalled. 
Sometimes, my incapacity to face down my own mortality 
creates a wordlessness that boils down to love.

Joanne Godley

Joanne Godley is a poet, writer, and art lover who resides in beautiful Mexico City. "Almost daily, my puppy, Jazz, and I walk to Twisted Tree Park (I’ve renamed it) and I think about poetry and how lucky I am to live here, while Jazz watches the squirrels."