When Big Falls

I dip my hand
to cup the whale,
caught in a cable—

her call
a silver column rising.

I carry the horse,
old and riddled
with cancer, who fell

silent as the Little Prince in sand.
Someone has painted a heart

on his forehead and a green forest
covers the blue eye
I close with the palm of my hand.

I see the elephant
in a black and white film—

held by hydraulics five stories high.
The ship lurches,
the strap slips,

the elephant falls,
and the film ends.

How still
this witness of clouds,
scattered like herds.

Copyright © 2010 Annie Appleton All rights reserved
from The Greensboro Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission