/Redoubled

The eyes were large and moist,
following every move with
intense interest, (each fragment)
of egg folding over the edge
of the cup as the shell withdrew,
moistening the rose medallions,
lifting a petal in bold relief
above the dull gloss of porcelain
sky oozing onto the table.

Wrinkled fingers, pale, delicate
folding over themselves,
strain against smooth surfaces.
Bright red nails probe the taught
immobility of time, seek imperfection,
tiny fractures in implacable shell;
"Mother, would you like them poached?"
(mother, would you like them poached?)
muffled sounds of thin membrane, …tearing.

The Reading Specialist (fr. Stewards of Mortality)

©Red Slider, 1997, 2006 all rights reserved.

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