That summer she told me
the secret to keep
cool: place the underside
of your wrist beneath the white-blue
gushing cold from any sink, the crease spot
where veins collect and disperse
through the five pointed leaf— it is
a central system though you won’t escape the heat
of your father’s one bedroom— you may go
to the sink and experiment on yourself, drawn
instead to the bath, peel back
the curtain, clear polyester clouded
mold pink and find the silver elephant waiting
in the silver moon, you may wind
her trunk backwards to red and plunge
left foot first upon her whorling fire
you will remember her wandering for water
holes, pickled in search and sky,
her trunk slapped over sun-dried clay to feel
for the wallow’s edge, rooting
her gray-pink sway
along curling tombs of mud
cast from absent rain, dilating
with all five limbs what will be
wet and made womb again
unable to escape the heat she
with no hole
in sight, plunging
the silver descent hung between
two waning ivory moons, waxing
a spot soon to see
wildebeest, hyena, bristled lips
sipping and there in
the underside of a nearby tree,
her dream hollowed
all-quenching, she cool
and recollecting
some things
from the experiment.