The Burial

by Ally Schwam

While I eat breakfast, a mourning dove

slams into my window,
trades her life for a crack in the glass.

I step outside to wipe away the blood.

I find her, neck twisted,
parted beak and black eyes
pointing towards the sun.

Her feathered body is so small
I can’t help but bury her
and let the fine dirt sift through my fingers.

I say no prayers.

I don’t want to wash my hands,
but I do anyways.

My hands don’t shake under the cold water
the way I think they should.



artist: emily filler

Ally Schwam is a poet, artist, and professional UX/UI Designer. Her poetry has previously appeared in Tupelo Press’ 30/30 Project, UMD’s Literary Magazine Stylus, and Poetry WTF?! She lives in Bethesda, MD.

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