Some people mention
Elephants in these rooms –
I do not see even one,
Though there was a platypus, once.
No, there are pastel pink
Balloons, buoyant,
Perhaps lifted by the warmth
Of fat jar candles burning – fiercely
casting shadows and reflection.
The mirrors hardly notice
Any of this as each ponders
A presentation less often seen
than, the naked boardroom
Dreams spreading shock and awe
Into the adrenaline wakefulness
Where fear drowns pregnant
with crystal-shattering screams.
An open window vacuums
The bubblegum balloons toward
What near, the beyond, outdoors holds;
Pedestrians pause to take in
Doves serenading in the park.
Maybe an egret at the lake
would like the elephants
I have not seen on extraordinary
Days that pass yodeling about
A damsel once viewed, just a face,
in transit
Imaged in a cotton candy balloon.
Ah, but how all float away –
The past into centuries, the present
heading by, behind with the wind,
tomorrow a vision maintaining itself
Just a little forward, never to be caught;
and the cherry pop balloons
Go to where it is unknown, exist or burst,
Once they were and how they did rise.
My room is lonely now
And I surmise, alone is mine –
Dancing with balloons was and is
Another moment, given time.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

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