Anti-tercets

one

Vision blurs and fades
Like crimes
Like my own criminalities

two

Memories of doves
Facade in providence
Pigeon roost and hidings

three

Swollen eyesight
Sores like wings lit
We were gifted and elevated

four

A miraculous gesture
And dandy favor
Leads to escape and gore

five

Suture of those lonesome
Sops and cries of those threaded skins
Those foreign acts of bleeding (it is blood, beautifully)