Sunday Service: Brooke Ellsworth
Dove
I knew a boy named Dove
I never touched him
The rest in the park beneath
The shining bottoms of seagulls
Came out of the gated housing estates
Where nobody ever did touch him
Still the homegrown closed in on him
Their arms always came away with nothing
Oh how he would work a crowd of war daddies
With those Dove eyes he’d give a waitress
When he’d order waffles at midnight
Coffee and pie on the house
Poor Dove couldn’t help it
He’d say goodnight to the officers
To every convict and then to me
Good night everybody Dove would say
There’s no more to what I saw
What’s more is everybody went hungry
Brooke Ellsworth is author of the chapbook, Thrown (The New Megaphone 2014). She has recent poems in gobbet, Pinwheel, and ILK. She teaches at The New School.
Sunday Service
I really like this poem. The last two lines are really lovely.