with my stomach growling
like a hungry feeding dog
being pestered by a child
and so, I decided to fry an egg.
I grabbed one from the fridge
and looked at it, I mean,
really looked at it
for a moment
and thought about how
we all start as an ovum,
a cellular reproductive means
transformed
delivered and protected,
as well as rejected at times
and I thought of that
Salvador Dali painting,
the one where a man
was crawling out of
an egg.
On a more serious note,
isn’t it odd, how the egg,
a vessel, divinely designed
to protect its precious cargo,
is conversely represented
at death as a coffin, or urn?
Think about it;
we begin this life contained
and end it, entombed:
how very ironic.
Honorable mention
Silver trophy winner
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