Dove on the Wing

I made another poem out of prose. This one is from Geraldine McCaughrean's Not the End of the World. At this moment, the male dove has been freed from the dark inner recesses of the Ark, in the hopes that he will fly off and find land.


Dove on the Wing
from Geraldine McCaughrean's Not the End of the World

I circle,
waiting for my mate.

But she has eggs.
She won't leave the eggs.
Her duty is to the eggs.

Mine is to get free.

And so "We" is
split in half,
like a carcass
shared between foxes.

We are split,
my mate and I.

I do not know how many I am.
There is no number
smaller than two.

Ten doves,
eight doves,
six or four or
two.

And yet
there must be a smaller number,
for
here
I
am.