Counting Elephant Leap Years

That elephant over there,
kneels on the keystone,
reciting a thousand names
that run together.
Vedic sounds coated red,
through lucid mists
he said he stands
for love-
in thirty-two ways,
in twenty-nine days.

As it is customary
for February,
to drop in on dreams
and sow fertile desire
where wild light will
cast an epic tragedy.

When love grows,
that one over there named
Ganesha, strokes his rats hair
and dances on the tips
of his round toes,
spinning his chakras
and juggling icy hearts
he freezes a moment
with potential, spouting 

prisms of inertia

retracting all the
matterless time

resting on balance.

Strands of helmikuu,
pearly wisdom hung
around your neck,
possess and strangle
with the charm of love.
Toxic lust set in an 

amulet of broken trust.

Ganesha says Love 

cannot survive the possibility 

of a  moonless month.
He comes to say,
only February has space
and time to give and gets
to jump all over juxtapositions

of weight and gravitate in

centripetal passion.

Crucified by greed, 

immaterial layers; 

the rose, crystallized rocks.
His trunk is too full
to maintain refrain or 

balance on shaky propositions
only to land on sharp ultimatums.
Peircing reality, I fell hard.

I was left alone with red.
Ganesha left the room.
It was all a dream,
I saw upon waking
my blue body still aching.

I kept the pretty pearls.

Image painted by elephant in Thailand, uploaded By Deror Avi (Own work) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html), CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0) or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Feature image (top) By Udunuwara at English Wikipedia (Transferred from en.wikipedia to Commons.) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.