Mourning Doves

They think

Unburdened by hands that fed,

anything is what she’ll eat.

Her home of steel is lonely.

Anywhere is where she’ll go.

“be free!”

Alone, she’ll tremble through a whistling sky

She wasn’t built for the earth.

A gargled sound is punched from her throat,

But who is around to hear?

Anticipation thrums all around

Begging her to leave.

But she cannot hear, so she is

Assaulted

By hundreds of thundering, drooling beasts above

Their spit is heavy, dragging

Until she is beak first and tumbling down.

She aches, broken and wet.

In a stumbling search for cover

She finds it under petals warping a sunset.

The hibiscus bush rooted in dirt

That devoured the remains of her mother

And every other mother too.

The petals and leaves droop from above

Depressed as another suffers.