An Elephant in Paris

A poem about the elephant statue and opium den that used to live in the garden of the Moulin Rouge. When it got refurbished, the elephant disappeared.

Pigalle, Pigalle,

Quel un quartier royal!

I went to Paris as the months darkened.

We drank coffee and walked to Montmartre

With browned skin still, from swimming

In the sea, in Nice.

We ate mussels there.

Paris bloomed with brighter fruits

In the streets of Pigalle,

A ruby theatre with a windmill astride it.

I saw one similar in Amsterdam, but I think the red

Stood for something else.

There once lived a Parisian elephant

From the world trade fair,

The Exposition Universelle

(Come and see the wonders of France and the

New world!)

An elephant in Paris, who slept under the stars

And the bars

Of La Tour Eiffel, until he was smuggled away

By the Moulin Rouge.

He sat in the garden

While men carved a hole in his belly,

And filled it with opium.

They painted gold his tusks.

Stairs rose in a tight spiral inside his leg,

And strange men with forgotten lives

And forgotten wives

Sat in his belly and stopped

And forgot.

All for a good price, of course.

Pigalle, Pigalle,

Quel un quartier royal!

Years passed,

And at last the windmill spun its last.

The elephant died

And turned to rust,

But nobody found his golden tusks.

Reviews

[lily]

This is such an amazing poem :)

[wordman]

I loved your write it is a shame what people will do for money

[Coyote Poetry]

I enjoyed the story in the poem. I like the photo. Gave life and strength to your words. I love Europe. History and mystery for the lucky to find. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote

[EloisaWrites]

This is a very intriguing story spun into one beautiful poetry. I love your use of words. This is great! :)