White Pigeon

Kwame Dawes

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A formally dressed young boy plays while standing a few feet away from a Hearse.

When I hold the pigeon,
white as sun-bright,

when I feel the bone
and muscle, the delicate

lightness of feathers,
and I see the eyes

that have seen this world
grow smaller

and smaller—
eyes that have traveled

to tree-filled fields,
to places where the sun

University of Virginia Virginia Quarterly Review
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