this morning when i split eggs
and watched the fluids fall into the hot metal pan
to bask in butter and oils and salt
two yolks drew clean of the shell, two smiling suns

and i wondered if this was a thing of luck
or a ghastly mutation
two unborn twins of an avian persuasion
about to go down my gullet

i suppose it is up for interpretation
the proverbial double yolk
two lives lost could nourish
the one i occupy, until i break and bellow
like that eggshell