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Showing posts from April, 2012

NOT EATING BACON AND EGGS ON SUNDAY - Poem

NOT EATING BACON AND EGGS ON SUNDAY
After Cubism

The bottle / rolls in the vending machine. Mother / braces her hand against the cabinet / and picks the leaves. Glistening juice / sizzles in the pan. Mother flaps / the pink towel. Father / cooks sunny side up. I / do not eat his breakfast / but eat four Japanese tangerines. I want / his change to buy a bottle of soda. I step / on a chair and hear water running from an icy / metal spigot. The yolk / melts on the edge of the fork. Mother / washes her face. I hold / three coins in my hand. The water / comes from the stem and I see / its vascular bundle. My hands smell / like orange and coins. The broken / kapok-tree is on the carpet. Father / keeps flipping the bacon and eggs. There are piled / books and a wallet on the tall cabinet. Sister eats / only bacon and scribbles on a plate with egg yolk. / The stem is bent / and broken in half. When I reach / the coins, the books fall into the kapok. The white / vascular bundles are between my n…