Dead Doves

Every day, our cats kill at least a few doves

somedays they get a cardinal

somedays a myna

but usually, it’s all doves.

Once in a while,

they get a rat

or a mouse

but for the most part

all they kill

are the doves.

To their credit,

the cats eat nearly everything

so we only ever find

a small pile

of scattered feathers

just enough to prove

that the doves ever existed,

but body and bones

are gone.

Day after day

dove after dove

they never tire of it.

For a while, I was keeping track

but I lost count long ago.

So many dead doves.

The cats carry on.

Business as usual,

begging for cat food

though their bellies are full

and their breath smells of death.


About soitgoes1984

I was born and raised on land stolen from the Pocumtuc. I now live on a small island in the middle of the Pacific ocean, on land that was stolen more recently, from the Hawaiians. I am addict, struggling to kick the habit of fossil fuel. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.
This entry was posted in birds, cats, death, doves, farming, mice, poem, Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.