vessels

i broke the last egg
as you gathered

berries

it wasn’t breakfast
we were hunting

sideways and
loop-edged
in the miracle
of kitchen

crumb-crunch on the floor
fresh bread
daily broken

the sound so much less
than silence

scriff-scruff
and ground level

eyes never met

through a limerick
of dance

you were always so bawdy
and i was the pattern

true pitch
ticking time
to your song
of burnt flesh,
soft toast,
crooked finger


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