Saturday, August 30, 2014

Ode To A Breakfast Egg (Sunny Side Up)

Sweet egg, reposing upon the nut-brown toast
(Whose charred black robe was shed in my sink of white),
You are my gustatory Song of Songs,
You are my visual 8:00 a.m. delight!
Relaxed, serene on your carbohydrate couch,
Your round breast rises above your white frilled skirt
And tempts me . . . I stab its smooth and tender skin
And watch your molten gold, your heart's blood, squirt. . .
At last you're mine! No one will steal you now!!
(Yet consternation clouds a bit my bliss. . .
How can I ever gather you to myself
When you are trickling over the plate like this?
Oh lovely, murdered egg, which, but for me
Might yet have been a chick, I have a yen
To know how aught as exquisite as thee,
Could come from Min, our dour speckled hen!


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