Eight Ways In Which He Is Like A Dove
Something may have just died:
It is the silence after a ringing
Shot the wounded
Silence. The hunter must eat.
Readjusts his rustled
Think you lips
Are like a dove. Soft and
Deft as imagined
I have no way of
The fountain held
That glistened among the
It is no longer used
After it rained everything was sodden and melted sugar the wires
Reflected with unsteady baubles of clear permeable stones. The dove
Cracks the jewels upon the pavement as
Out of the corner of
My eye I see you. Like a dove
Mirroring the blue off the Adriatic.
A dove landed
In Sicily. You laughed.
None of the doves that I have seen were
The doves are perching on the worn
Statures of Roman heroes and robed
Senators. They have your face in white
As I walked Home sick with love I heard
The clatter of iridescent mourning doves
Taking wing. They cried to your name.
An olive branch lay at my feet.