when doves cry

it's usually early as day starts turning over when the air around is as heavy as seas in your chest feelings are intermixed between despair and hope like the sea when your odds are in a bottle, scribbled futilities tossed to the waves, exit on the backside of tides until they resurface with old whale stench one out of water tanning under a hard sun doves cry in the shade of mahogany trees between noon and three when my mother's mother's roundabout nonsense lyrics "Moses speak_God's word Isaac too" come fresh to me the doleful doves portend cardinality begging adulterers to repent "Feathery Prophets!" grandmothers had spoken that death will walk into this village, some house, any hour, more sure than May rain, taking stock and mourners... and choirs... and pastors preach and pray you well while you sleep later we'll all fall asleep