Mourning Dove Poem by Susan Lacovara

I did not keep him from his dreams
I opened the window to let them fly
Invited the gales to carry him
Over the pine trees
To a distance my begging eyes
Could not view
And I knew this
Early on
I saw the writings on the wall
But chose to skim the page

One is better at believing
The lies they tell themselves
When love intervenes
And logic dies a hard death
Excuses come packed in a heavy crate
Like the Fruit of the Month Club
Sweet juicy selections
Bound to brown and spoil

Over and over I imagined a scenario
Where your wings would tire from flapping
Your eyes would search the horizon
For my faraway branch
And with a deliberate descending
Through space
And spaced out reasoning
You would want only to land
Where I laid quietly engulfed
In a featherbed made of misery's memories

I could have held you better
Could have clipped your wings
With demands and commands
That lovers often toss at one another
Seeds to feed the pigeons
That know a meal is offered daily
Should they choose not to leave that square

I could have held you better
Preening your ruffled feathers
A most exotic bird of many colors
To cage you would have been merciless
Yet it would have given me something to love
On sad mornings in November