The Dove

Dedicated to Robert Lindley. Warning this tale is dark. THE DOVE A bloody stain upon the sheets, how cruel! Soulless weight of the wretched beast who’d rule. With his bare paws and downward thrust he’d crush, Rake over the virgin, ignore her blush. Her pasty-skin, red eyes that swim, unloved. With his scepter and crown he’d beat the dove. Dainty wings he pinned, imprisoned her light. Tall shadowed tower, the terror of night. The wraithlike scream of his anger he’d wage, She cringes and clings to the walls, her cage. His mother the evil queen nods, approves. Wears silken-black, her shoes - cloved hooves. In the distance a kinder soul, he sees Her vomitus-plight - sallow of her pleas. Not to be tangled with when purpose hails, He prepares the strongest steed, onward sails. The King he mocks, “You jest! Stay out of it!” The hero’s strength in eyes, in frock and grit Unnerve his goliathlike flesh, it crawls. He shakes off the warning, his voice it squalls With a torrential force, thunder, lightning plenipotentiary frightening And this illuminated stranger dusts Off his shoulder the dope’s dander, thrusts A chivalrous blade, toys with this mouse-king. Meanwhile the slice of a whip, witch sings As she tears up the back of the princess. The sadistic royal duo ceaseless. The two-edged sword, the strike faithful and true, Butchery of the cattle and his crew Done with precision, with no time to waste. In his vision, beheld the “beauty” chaste. With his steed, he races upstairs, hooks whip, Drags the witch to window, releases grip, Throws his white robe over dove’s trodden flesh. She forgets - her dwelling brand new and fresh. Awakened to peaceful serenity. Wears royal white, dove of infinity. 1/24/2020