Lenore Dove Poem Novels & Stories

Maybe one day my talent will get me somewhere better in life. Ah ,grief, I should not treat you like a homeless dog, who comes to the back door for a crust,for a meatless bone , I should trust you. I should coax you into the house and give you, your own corner,a worn mat to lie on, your own water dish . You think I don't know you've been living under my porch. You long for your real place to be readied before winter comes . You need your name, your collar and tag, you need the right to warn off intruders, to consider my house your own and me your person and yourself my own dog . A poem by Denise Levertov.

As I sat down watching the videos on the flash drive Lenore had seen, my fingers tapping gently on the smooth surface of my laptop. My room was excessively quiet. I adjusted my seat chair to balance well on the desk; the faint sound of my breathing occupied the whole space. My gaze hovered around the quiet room, the soft cream walls, a chandelier that sparkled every time it was hit by the light, and the large windows that stared all around the city; however, my eyes weren't seeing them all tonight, and my gaze wasn't all about them, and I wasn’t even enjoying any of it. All I could think was all about that Lenore, body Lenore.

"It takes more than good writing." "More, you'll give." I tucked the book under my arm. "I'm keeping this, by the way." Khole looked up and smiled. "You almost gave me a heart attack," Dove muttered, already drifting back toward the bedroom door with her blanket trailing. "My head is splitting. I'm going back to sleep." She pointed at me without turning around. "Good morning, Dove. Lovely to see you too." She waved one hand and disappeared. I turned to Risa. "Where's my wife?"