A blooded dove lies/ on some LA Boulevard— I spy/ something dead. Back window rolled summer/ down, my girl thighs stuck to hot/ leather. A rush the opposite side/ of flutter. / Wings in a tunnel of air/ down white lined asphalt. Rocket/ Ship popsicle— red, white & blue— on my/ tongue. I cannot stop staring. / Wings an involuntary beating. Red bloom/ against death. Don’t look!!!— But/ its wings shiver. Softness/ of down chest in an empty girl/ hand. Death on the back/ of tongue. Metallic/ like the choke that comes as/ night terror when Mama/ remarries & I hide from her/ new man— screams no one/ hears on the river. The dove/ nests in my chest, blooded/ wings tremoring. Turns black &/ molts each summer, its/ feathers swimming up/ my mouth. I feed it cherries, / small pits like gems/ in an open beak.
*Originally published in NAILED Magazine*