dead dove : do not open
By Beatriz Seelaender
Issue 002: Gravitydead dove
do not fly over
my head
you are not above
being a dead dove
what did I expect?
the note around your leg said
this dove is dead, do not
do not, do not, do not interact
it dove, it took a dive for my hair, though
it didn’t deaden the impact
was it a bullet or a heart attack
dead dove, don’t be that way
flying and falling as soon as you hear a trigger
it’s just practice, it’s just fiction
have they eaten
the dead dove you left
in the icebox, an aviary memorial
which you were probably saving
to pass for chicken to passersby in the marketplace
forgive them, for they were probably starving
and I thought I was the unhappiest person I could fathom
and I thought, if I see one more bad rhymer rhyme it for love
I’ll put on the gloves and kill it myself
didn’t need to, as it was dead
everything is dead, dead-on, and then
a do-over on my down-out bad luck
because I do the things when they’ve said, Don’t
and then I look over, to the sidewalk near a café
walking to school thinking of pastries much too expensive
on the other side, no warning, no basic etiquette
another dead dove by the cemetery, and it occurred to me
I’d never seen a dead thing in real life, not as dead as that
they cover it up before it gets to the guts rotting in the open,
in front of children, in front of salad bars
do you remember I told you when I got back
and you said you’d seen a dead dove as well?
on the very same path
and we wondered how long it’d been dead
and why they wouldn’t clean it up
so we wouldn’t have to look at it
or if it could be that we’d seen two different doves
in a similar state of decay, dead in the very same place
and if anyone ever got killed in cemeteries
and if that was as logistically convenient as it sounded (probably not)
it’s like the boots, you said, of the abandoned pair on the sidewalk
they don’t ever pick up after themselves
but they do, because didn’t you tell me later
you’d seen that dead dove feasted on by a live one?
or did I make that up completely
Beatriz Seelaender is a Brazilian writer from São Paulo. You can find her poems, stories, and brain farts in many a lit mag. Her novellas "All According to Norm" (Black Spring Press, 2024) and the Austenites (Hidden River, 2024) have earned her the Bottom Drawer Prize and the Sandy Run Award. She is currently pursuing a Master's degree in Classical Reception Studies.
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