I broke two eggs
In that soft, one handed crush
You taught, a thumbnail for a spur
Hooked with the slight compression
That misshapes a world
Put them back together
Admittedly in somewhat different shape
All transparency gone
To a gleam made obtuse
As slippy, opaque destiny
Butchered to order
The sign read
(Hand drawn with
a crabbed and aching wrist)
On the corner of Argyle & Ross
The facade poisonous in dermatitis flakes
The dirty lead-white, scabrous underneath
Burst blisters watching, mouthing
How they hunger, how they weep
Cleaver raised, and falling like a curtain
A sizzle
As if the sea insisted
Something missing
When you turned off
The waxy flame
A dead thickness
In the nose, on the tongue
An old world
Of stones and moss
Where the fat, not quite rendered
Wears a misbegotten smile
