The Dove

Am I the dove? You said so sweet

the bringer of peace, tho the thorn may release us;

break the chains of our jugular blue.

Am I the dove? That rivets the city yearning

in mirrored scrapers to the Everlasting sky?

Whose wings, like books, descend quietly upon iron boughs

to give us rest and weeping.

Am I the dove, playing on the woods’ floor

with my gathered stems of wheat?

Virgo left behind her homeland, Field,

and kissed the echo of her grooms wounded hand.

Or am I the panther stocking deep?

Moonlight rasping, I knead my blanket of jewels and death, purr

and feast alone on ephemeral gleams

beside the mouth of a salty stream

caring not for tears and dreams. unfolding

Atop the corpse flower’s bed, mane askew

yet daggerdly set

on the Prey

chosen so long before.

The dove alighted on the stoop of His door.

 

The Dove beat her wings, looked not down

meeting the Cats eyes, her beak held a trickling bough.

 

Reviews

[Urja Gokani]

amazingly written keep it up !