salad in the making (20170109)

we fill up the room
like eggs coming to a boil
in a stainless steel pot
jostling one another
breaking our skins
escaping into
salty water
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
little suns
gone still

19 thoughts on “salad in the making (20170109)”

    1. 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!

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