The Ivory Tusk Carry Me Home

The Ivory Tusk Carry Me Home On an island in my mind, waves of despair roll in and out. It never ceases. An albatross plays the piano, my last song and dance. It's sad. Even the filthy rats cry. I muse, I develop a rapport with my pallbearers. I jest my clown pursuit of life. And say. Carry me to a rat hole, I really do cry. I can see the reincarnation among the rats, their bitter eyes matching mine. Yet it would be a step up from this life. If only people knew like who would really care? My mind's eye sharp. Mom and Dad knew they gave me this apple, this apple filled with malignancy. It grew orchards in my mind. Contempt. "You were a mistake my young child." They were a mistake, my fist tightening, hitting the wall of wanton predispositions, repeatedly. Their flame, my ashes. Their flame, my ashes, my pet phrase, an unleashed dog barking uncontrollably in my mind. It won't be long now, I shrug. So do the rats. The rats will be marching in, hurrah, hurrah. Yes, I smile a tear. Is it the piano man, or is it an albatross playing my funeral hymn? Tears of sadness in his eyes, I would like to think. I write the final days, to journal, on this island in my mind. My words, like flares shot high up in the sky, summoning, summoning for help. But no one sees. No one comes to rescues me. I gather a prayer, Dear family thanks for nothing. I wander the last few breaths. I find my bed of albatrosses, and sink low for the last time as the music sends me away. connie pachecho 6/11/17 Note-I was inspired to write this piece after reading the entries to Craig Cornish's current contest-God Knows Where I Am.