Piece of Dove

[tectak]

How you sang in light of dawn, in warming air, in ruffling breeze.
I stirred with music's falsest claims, in waking thoughts, in fantasies.
How soon the day destroyed my dreams, with needling beams, with distant drone.
Yet you who woke me called me still with echoed love...forlorn, alone.
What silence followed when you left, a far field flown to mist-grey bush.
Me a la mode, brushed bright and new, intent on speed, in left late rush;
with no recall, no troubling thoughts, pass field and pasture, woodland dell.
We met again, a second's flight, you in your fluid, changing chains
and I, tied tight to unseen turns, sped through your life...now nought remains.
But wait, for in that  perfect puff, your life and mine could mix and meld.
I carried you --a limp, lost frame-- in sombre mood, in blood-specked glove,
to lay you in my tomb-like trunk. I'll take you home, my turtle dove.
Dusk comes again, night once meant stress; at peace you lie, in chill you rest.
My thoughts turn inward to my needs. I think of you, your ample breast,
your willingness to yield to me; in wine I see you, dressed undressed.
I part your purple, plump firm flesh; in gluttony I eschew sin.
No cooing calling to the sun will wake me now...I can lie in.

tectak
2015