Why did you leave your bones
scattered? White
chalk on my floor.
When I awoke in the hazy mourning, doves
laughing at my stumbling.
I tore them from my windowsill,
I buried the evidence in feathers.
I locked the door,
to stalk, alone,
through eggshells,
Searching sticky membranes
for shy muses flaring sparks of
lessons learned.
Oh, how sweet,
the air,
in reminiscence,
tastes of morning dew.
On soft wings,
a slew of sound:
The melody of spring.
A mourning dove falls
in love with winter's animosity.
A song,
lonely and hollow,
echoes through white snow.
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 9:04 PM UTC
Why did you leave your bones
scattered? White
chalk on my floor.
When I awoke in the hazy mourning, doves
laughing at my stumbling.
I tore them from my windowsill,
I buried the evidence in feathers.
I locked the door,
to stalk, alone,
through eggshells,
Searching sticky membranes
for shy muses flaring sparks of
lessons learned.
Oh, how sweet,
the air,
in reminiscence,
tastes of morning dew.
On soft wings,
a slew of sound:
The melody of spring.
A mourning dove falls
in love with winter's animosity.
A song,
lonely and hollow,
echoes through white snow.
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