Dove in a tree

above David and me.

“Just Point and squeeze,”

I am whispering. 



Watch her spin

towards the ground. Crimson!

But I’ve only hit her wing.

She is walking, cooing.



Here come the dogs,

those filthy dogs,

to drag her off

and tear her up. 



I pick her up in my hands

and wipe her blood of in the hot desert sand