(no subject)
He raises the pellet gun
and takes aim at the bird.
This is just a toy.
This is just a game,
but a game taught to boys out in the woods,
a game of kill it and eat it.
The dove,
oblivious and tragic,
walks through the front gate.
I look at it and think,
"I know something you don't know."
The shot sounds like nothing,
a short burst of air and then silence.
The bird convulses on the ground.
He picks it up
and sets it out of sight,
somewhere it can die without being gaped at by a bunch of stoned know-it-all college kids.
Doves,
like people,
mate for life.
Outside,
in a nearby tree,
there is a sad chirping that won't stop.
Inside,
in some quiet place,
there is a sad twitching that will.
and takes aim at the bird.
This is just a toy.
This is just a game,
but a game taught to boys out in the woods,
a game of kill it and eat it.
The dove,
oblivious and tragic,
walks through the front gate.
I look at it and think,
"I know something you don't know."
The shot sounds like nothing,
a short burst of air and then silence.
The bird convulses on the ground.
He picks it up
and sets it out of sight,
somewhere it can die without being gaped at by a bunch of stoned know-it-all college kids.
Doves,
like people,
mate for life.
Outside,
in a nearby tree,
there is a sad chirping that won't stop.
Inside,
in some quiet place,
there is a sad twitching that will.