Eight Ways In Which He Is Like A Dove

I.
Something may have just died:
It is the silence after a ringing
Shot the wounded
Silence. The hunter must eat.
The dove
Readjusts his rustled
Wings

II.
I would
Think you lips
Are like a dove. Soft and
Deft as imagined
Daylight
I have no way of
Knowing

III.
In Italy
The fountain held
White doves
That glistened among the
Faded lira
It is no longer used
Now

IV.
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
He lands

V.
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.

VI.
None of the doves that I have seen were
Ever white

VII.
The doves are perching on the worn
Statures of Roman heroes and robed
Senators. They have your face in white
Stone.

VIII.
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.