Political Fallacy in the Scene of a Dove's Slaughter

The beloved dove has been slaughtered; now the skin is being peeled.The fat of her thigh comes out, slowly.

The thigh is bright,

the colour of her body beautiful, her skin glorious as the past.She has breasts, and so she is a mammal.

Her song lies scattered all through the forest —the flawless wailing of gang rape,the related vocabulary.

The other doves are watching: the minority dove is being got ready for the pot.Even at such a moment the male doves turn restless with desire.

The great business of eating the flesh does not stop.

Her mate is still sitting on the chhatim branch,remembering — how many memories they had.

So many memories, only memories in the chest,and at some point the dove society falls asleep.Planes carrying lamentation circle in the sky, and

again and again and again it returns:the meat trader's civilised advertisement. Ethical imagery!