Eggshell Love
A poem
Broken eggshells litter the floor. Rampaging humans sweep insults Under the table, high and mighty like Some Gods, which we know we are not. So sorry doesn’t cut it. Hollow apologies don’t Erase the words we came to regret. Love — Hey Good Lookin’, whatcha got cookin’? — Sometimes it feels like a dozen perfect eggs
Shattered, splattered, sticky across Plagued hearts. In the morning, we Reconvene, share a tender hug and kiss. Our rhythm in sync, we try not to keep score. Unexpected scrambled eggs are laid on The table. We arose early and made each other Scrumptious food. Meals shared in true love.
Thank you for inspiring me to give this a try, Melissa Bee. Check out Melissa’s eggplant acrostic.
If you’d like to join this is the prompt: Pick a vegetable to guide your acrostic poem and then write a poem that’s not remotely related to vegetables at all.
If convenient, I’d like to tag Connie Song, Carolyn Riker, Jay Squires, Shanna Loga, Alice Toneatto, Terry Mansfield, Michael Burg, MD, Galit Birk, PhD
Where to next?
A voice to amplify: What’s in Your Dog’s Food?
