Jake Sheff
The Poacher
At dawn he prays and loads an AK-47.
He tucks a trashcan full of ivory
beneath his ash tree; puts his cigarette
out in an ivory ash tray and departs.
He stalks a herd of elephants and
hardly hears the alien emotions
in fanned ears. His heart put down
its painful eyes as poverty grew
more generous. The park rangers’
Cessna banks right –plays catch
up constantly – and spots a crocodile.
The Salamat River shines chocolaty
today beneath the blooming, milky
lotuses. A juvenile bull is just
an average Joe, but doesn’t want to be
and isn’t now; the poacher’s sights
are on his tusks and thick with evil
worship. The savanna’s dumb genius
submerged the park with rainfall, so
this watering hole’s stopped all forward
motion cold midday; fowl and elephants
plunge into the mud bath’s weird
perfection. Others live for dead places
and fire with a face like driftwood.
Jake Sheff is a major and pediatrician in the US Air Force, married with a daughter and three pets. Currently home is the Mojave Desert. Poems of Jake’s are in Marathon Literary Review, Jet Fuel Review, The Cossack Review and elsewhere. His chapbook is “Looting Versailles” (Alabaster Leaves Publishing). He considers life an impossible sit-up, but plausible.
The Poacher
At dawn he prays and loads an AK-47.
He tucks a trashcan full of ivory
beneath his ash tree; puts his cigarette
out in an ivory ash tray and departs.
He stalks a herd of elephants and
hardly hears the alien emotions
in fanned ears. His heart put down
its painful eyes as poverty grew
more generous. The park rangers’
Cessna banks right –plays catch
up constantly – and spots a crocodile.
The Salamat River shines chocolaty
today beneath the blooming, milky
lotuses. A juvenile bull is just
an average Joe, but doesn’t want to be
and isn’t now; the poacher’s sights
are on his tusks and thick with evil
worship. The savanna’s dumb genius
submerged the park with rainfall, so
this watering hole’s stopped all forward
motion cold midday; fowl and elephants
plunge into the mud bath’s weird
perfection. Others live for dead places
and fire with a face like driftwood.
Jake Sheff is a major and pediatrician in the US Air Force, married with a daughter and three pets. Currently home is the Mojave Desert. Poems of Jake’s are in Marathon Literary Review, Jet Fuel Review, The Cossack Review and elsewhere. His chapbook is “Looting Versailles” (Alabaster Leaves Publishing). He considers life an impossible sit-up, but plausible.