You shuck each apple into pieces
with a paring knife, click your tongue
at the oven slow to heat.
Out the window, the sun burns itself
back into the white sky
like a halo of butter wash on crust.
You smack each egg shell with a snapping crack
on the clear glass of mixing bowl,
spool the cinnamon and yolk sweet and whole.
You cup the next egg in your hands,
down toward me like a delicate desert-drink,
an unsprung bulb of tulip.
If you push in at an egg from all sides,
the shell sits resistant in its shallow brightness.
That’s why we make it personal, why we hit
in one dictated spit of quick movement forward,
why we halve it in a stiff pinch,
spill ‘till we deem it enough.
”Egg Theory” is a poem that I wrote in 2019. It was published in Rockvale Review, which you can read online.