We children with huge heads, who never forget,
are trained like elephants: chained to iron poles, we brood
and try to get away but can’t, and soon give up,
attaining the fixed level of our plenitude.
When adults, we’re tied to wooden stakes by strings
and, memory-trussed, don’t move beyond our ambit’s nook,
though we could do so without blinking a slow eye
or turning our large heads for a last look.
More poetry from Askold Skalsky
Askold Skalasky is a former community college professor, whose poems have appeared in numerous small press magazines and journals, most recently in freefall and The Dos Passos Review.