we fill up the room
like eggs coming to a boil
in a stainless steel pot
jostling one another
breaking our skins
hardening into thin ribbons
the sulfur smell
that is us
the bits of calcified shell
that are us
we float in salty water
we bounce and break
our centers harden
19 thoughts on “salad in the making (20170109)”
Thank you 😊
WOW Each line is so artfully chosen. Love it! (And I’m a vegan!)
After re-reading it, I decided that first line doesn’t belong with this poem, though I’m happy overall with it. I started with that line and the poem went elsewhere. Thank you for your egg-celent words!
I’m not yolking; it’s a cracking good poem!
I’m positively poached that you like it.
Yes, I absolutely give it my benediction.
So wonderful that I am going to resist an egg pun. The visuals, and those last three lines…
I thank you for your kind words and your restraint. 😀
Eggs are like people — some are cracked, hard boiled, scrambled, and thin skinned! The last line appealed to me the most.
Thank you. I like the last lines too. I don’t know where they came from.
Those are the best kind of lines then — mystery ones from another dimension!
Hopefully they’re not part of an evil plot.
I’m at work, so I’ll have to watch this later. But not knowing what it is, I am afraid. Very, very afraid.
the sulfur smell that is us…is as ominous as our hardened center suns. a masterpiece
Wow, thank you.
keep tossing us your poems, boiled, fried, or sunny side up…whichever:)
Comments are closed.