The Same is True With Some of a Poet’s Poems
An old lady shopping in a supermarket
She finds eggs each beautifully born
Same in size same in freshness each shines seductively
So she buys some and returns home satisfactorily
But when she cooks and cracks a few of the eggs
She finds one or two of which have no semen
That kind of catkin-like sticky substance
Which is the soul and spirit of an egg
No eggs are 100% fertilized
No eggs are 100% hatched