Orgone TDM - Mourning Dove

The silver dove
It beckoned me
To a burning reel
Of expired dreams

“Pull a tab of my
Saturnine cyanide
And sleep.”

The mourning dove
A timbre rich
Awakened me from my penultimate ditch
To an anodyne
A panorama: a feeble sign
Of the wellspring

While strangers on a train
In a pastel dream of bliss
Preen for each other’s
Wry grins, then slip
Unconsummated
To the dining car
Lusting for
Mutually assured destruction