Poem: The Artist by May Sarton

 

The drawings were abstract, Delicate, Like Japanese calligraphy. When the painter de Kooning Was shown them, he said, “Interesting. Not done by a child, I think, Or if so, an extraordinary child.” “The artist is an elephant, Sir, Named Siri.” It had once come about That the keeper noticed Her sensitive trunk Drawing designs in the dust. After an argument With the head of the zoo Who laughed at him, The keeper himself Brought large sheets of paper And boxes of charcoal And laid them at Siri’s feet. For an hour at a time In happy concentration The elephant created designs. Like Japanese calligraphy. What artist’s hand As skillful As that sensuous, sensitive trunk?