AN OCCASION FOR DOVES

Theodosia, a crooked alley, seven smells;
Chiming goats, creak
Of a swung boom, flutter of a sail, the baker
Stood with arms akimbo at a windowsill
And it was break of day -

Berlin, with blackbird song, other voices,
Old. Lisbon, hooded pilots took their time
Hawking in gutters. Too much, too much, even
Shoving back the crush of things
Makes it more difficult to level with

Yourself. Pocked face in a dream
Last night, you told me to come on, come on,
They've all been there. One hand of mine
Felt you, up your skirt, you did not blink.
Today, your photo, and I
...