One More Letter by Monika Kostera

The first dove that came was taken
down by gun fire. The second
died from the pesticides

on the olive branch she held her beak.
The third is here now: a city pigeon,
mangy and limping, with sparse blue-gray

feathers, his eyes red and orange,
like Hephaistos’
kiln.

God has not
forsaken us.

(Plakias, 2016)

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