dovecotes ~ a tiny poem ~ #2


by valentine bonnaire c. April 2013

that between us was the sun of love

I expected the holy dove

& you in the long running sun

it was protection that I wanted


you that were the father’s holy ghost

not just the seeds ascended, most

I who flew until the fire

of our love had ended, only host

what cooed upon my breast of peace?

in my mother’s sackcloth of doom, the lease

where my father made a baby breech

when did love become a tomb?


Twenty years after this day, and two years later gone astray

No love from men came for our tribe

No builders dared the dovecotes, cried

instead just tears at what was love

what was a father from above

had turned to ash upon our lips

my mother in her scarf of cold

had warned us off of men, she’d told

us of their lies and grief

my generation without relief

without the sun

or merry shine

without the child, should have been mine

without a flag

without a home

nor any garden’s quiet loam

how many of our hearts did bleed

how love was lost

a sorry screed

how much I would have loved your sun

and in the sun had borne a son

if not at war

we would be blessed

and dovecotes built inside our chests

and love would be a tender hour

what we’d have grown

a simple flower



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