Captivity

I rode an elephant in Thailand

the summer I finally set out-

umbilical straight–jacket by then

nearly fused with my own anatomy

I didn’t ride barebacked

Still, l should have enquired

about the Elephant’s consent-

Instead I mounted him as if

it was my right- I had after all

paid to see the view from the top

Up close, random stray hairs

emerging from wrinkled grey skin,

bore an uncanny resemblance

to my 90-year-old grandmother

Days before my departure, my fingers

read the sagging softness beneath her arms

like a blind traveler studying a map.

Oblivious to the landmines in her heart,

I asked why she remained single- it had been four

decades, since my grandfather’s death-

…Men were bosses in Poland’s factories…

…fathers pleading unsuccessfully, for time off

work, for 9-year-old daughters on Kol Nidre…-

…Young husbands incapacitated by illness…

“Why would I want another man

to take care of?” she murmured.

I sat in the box seat, strapped

around the elephant’s back,

like the great Napoleon

on the eve of battle…

Surveying the promise

of freedom’s illusion

Lori Polachek