Bottled Up

I poked a hole in a hard-boiled egg
naively expecting it would change
it’s nature
and would turn soft,
but it proved itself just another
fucking ball of life—
unyielding, conventional
controlled, non-willing.
a new humanoid in the making.

In the realm of possibilities,
will I ever see things beyond man-made artifice?

2 thoughts on “Bottled Up

  1. I liked this poem, as I like all your poems. but … your last line seemed not exactly right, it felt too forced as personal , the words ‘man-made artifice?’ felt like too big a non sequitur jump, I can see what link you were trying to make maybe, but it didn’t feel as though it came from the poem, just from you, not you and the poem. Anyway I still liked it, and will always try to scramble eggs.


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