Elephant Gold

Kerry Anderson

I dream of elephants marching through puddles of liquid gold.
                A golden March is filled with elephants.
The North Star shines through the curtains of my bedroom.
        The north corner of my bedroom has a crack shaped like a star.
Rainy days make the metal rod in my spine hurt.
        Metal rain runs down the sky, spineless.
Walls covered with maps of the world line the café.
        Café walls map out the world.
Whiskey-filled nights lead to water-filled days.
        Whiskey water is full of lead.
The hotel rests on tree trunks on top of the water.
        Tree rests are hotels for water.
Chinese lanterns line the ceiling of my bedroom.
        Chinese bedrooms are lined with lanterns.
Islands of monkeys disappear into the fog.
        Fog monkeys live on islands.
Shooting stars sprinkle the skies of the desert.
        Desert stars sprinkle and shoot.
Yellow flower fields stretch for miles next to the sea.
        Yellow sea stretches and flowers.
Children laugh hysterically while on carnival teacups.
        Teacups laugh while watching children.
Two girls in colored wigs run down the street, frantic.
        Frantic wigs run after two girls.
A willow tree scoops down to catch a little girl.
        A girl willows, catching a tree.

Emily Gilbert