This piece is one in a chronological series.
Feel free to find the others here, and to browse through any companion piece, set in the same universe.
1. Three Frenemies 2. Fall Coven Meet 3. BeingLovedAgain 4. The Fourth Witch
6. The Three Questions
5. Memory Elephant
May 22 – Part 1 Stone Lady Paper Boots Dredge Half Yours, Half His Flower Seller
When You Must End Love Talk Scorpio Rising Pretty Men, Stone Lady
From The Olive Pit to Gratitude Reliability
There is an elephant in the room
earl grey body
broad as the winter sky
single tusk and beautiful potbelly
a snake around its middle, its
forked tongue does not frighten me.
I have one too, and venom in my gums.
A small mouse scurries by,
unafraid of elephant and snake.
I think I saw her once in the TTC tracks,
(as the subway halted, braked in its path,)
telling me to step back, as she went home.
There was a night – many nights
when my face became the moon,
and my tears were caught in a
an ivory cup, a broken tusk
It lies in the path between us,
full to the brim,
surrounded by at least a million roses,
memories swimming in their centres,
growing from a filled grave,
bees are swimming through air
floating on my breath, visiting flowers,
hovering at the cup.
“Oh” I say, quietly.
“Hello,” he trumpets, gently.
I look at him, and at the roses, at the tusk,
and at the snake and the mouse.
And I sit, cross legged, in front of many memories
in front of dreams and goals and obstacles.
I hold the flower she gave me in one hand,
the coin she gave me in the other:
heavy gold one side
stronger silver on the other, growing heavier
in my palm, feel the ridges of my face etched
into face and tail, press into my thumb.
“I’m not ready yet,” I say.
“I know.” He reaches over,
across roses and grave, tousles
my hair with his trunk. “But
you will be soon. Soon soon, little one.
Soon, soon, little….witch.
And when you are, you will need me,
will take you where you need to go
and who you need to be
and show you how exactly to be ready – People have called me many things,
I think you remember some of those old
ancient names at least, grand and beautiful names, but
what will you call me?”
“For now, Memory. You are my memory elephant.”
Memory smiles, chuckles with a loud burst of pleasant sound;
the bees scatter for a moment and come back too.
“How fitting! I have an excellent one you know, I am after all
an elephant, and even if you don’t, yet,