Gentle Egg
Gentle Egg
She candled an egg in her soft hands
protecting the fragile,
inspecting with light;
Cusping
Like either horn
Of a crescent moon
When floated aloft on two
dexterous
fingers.
Was she not peering into the future?
Making a determination perhaps
Even listening,
Searching for signs
of life?
or something more mundane ---
Broken vessels
Spots of blood
promising rot ...
Yolkers
like me...
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