Bird Elegy For My Mother


my mother was a mourning dove
cooing cooing cooing
her feathers ruffled in the solitary breeze

she clung to telephone lines
all alone all alone all alone
not even given time to moan

it was a lonely life indeed
pecking at seeds at worms
at flying bugs which sacrificed themselves to her

the sun beat down on her
in summer
the ice pelted her with degrees in winter

my mother was a mourning dove
cooing cooing cooing
her heart broke in her chest like twigs