Paloma

A nervous newborn with a maiden’s blush Seemingly too tame to bite Yet every move calculated with predatory grace You are an assassin waiting to strike Keen as the edge of a razor Solace as sharp as a blade A perilous dove carrying a grenade Adorned in glory, you were a regal crown Now transformed into a dagger and a spade Like the mountain reaching for the sun’s embrace You tear holes into soft silk skies Mercilessly flung across the haunting horizon Screeching your belligerent battle cry