people of determination
eggs for breakfast
just nameless eggs
with untamed yolks
flailing into
what could be butter, but isn’t,
teethed by a upend smile
screaming into
what could be sky, but isn’t.
here are
only
phantom fingers
writing
in a vocabulary of light,
leaves running milky chances
turning askance
and back
always back
to tree
starfish
cosmic dust,
and ahead
surely
to more eggs
people
and dinner time.
she will
suddenly
speak their names
in different tongues,
she will crack them
how she likes.