The Egg and the Stone

Love is a slope

the egg mused while tumbling down

the minute distance that kept them apart

rolling in effect to its doom

Just brushing against the stone causes it to crack

From its wounds white slowly issues forth

yolk gushes out of this gash

begins to run down the oblong belly

Wholeness a thing of the past

it’s broken viscous

still begging for this love

that’s neither granted nor denied

As for the stone it’s at ease in its mass

feeling nothing nothing at all

from the pitiful sticky sacrifice

performed atop its carapace

which will never bespatter its heart