I find eggs everywhere;
a patterned one, hiding behind the maple tree,
and one rotting in the carton at the supermarket,
priced at a dollar fifty.

i find eggs nestled between toilet rolls in the bathroom,
and i find eggs
sleeping in rock pools at the beach,
swaying in their slow shallow water.

My room is full of eggs,
under the blankets, and inside my cabinets.
I find eggs everywhere;
you’ll see them in the shadows of my lampshade,
stacked in the illuminated lack of light.

I find eggs everywhere;
and suddenly
they were packed up in my gift cartons,
and i was suddenly grinning over
the collection of produce
that brought me down.
I knocked on her door with my skinny arms,
with her present near my chest.
It was raining
when she answered,
and there i was
staring at the beautiful chickens on her shoulders
and the feathers littering her hallway.

She looks down and giggles
at my sparkly and ribbon declorated box
as her birds coo.
She asks “Who needs eggs?”
And I say she doesn’t need to worry
because they aren’t for her;
while i get lost in
her Saturn shaded eyes.