Caught up! Here’s my take on the shell name, ‘The Sparse Dove’…This one was rather fun to write.
Sparse
I realise there’s a lot riding
on these delicate feathers,
but what few of you get
– well, those few that are left –
is how hard it is to remain
this pure, white and pristine
during a global apocalypse.
It’s quite a few furlongs
across the flotsam and jetsam
of what you fondly thought of
as civilisation. (That’s not to mention
those without arks, without wings
this untainted, who floated
a surprising distance.)
There it is, the biggest bit of the buoyant
detritus of sin. No idea where to begin
their journey without destination.
And I’m meant to saunter over
on these tattered scroll wings
to deposit what feels to me
like a while bloody tree.
Just so that you know
you’ve got somewhere to go?
Well it’s that, or my nest.
And that’s close. So close.
Just a light breeze away
in one of the groves.
And they’re quiet. Quite silent,
but for the coo-ing of neighbours,
an occasional flurry of lambs.
No people here. No bickering.
No predators, or preying.
Just us prey. It’d be very easy
to stay. Avoid that murky water.
It’s a very long way over there.
A very long way.