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
