Egg (A Sestina)

I turned a corner on Winspear Avenue and I saw an egg
on the ground, pulsating. I picked it
up and brought the egg back to my house.
I left it alone for about a week or so.
I had forgotten about the egg until I
noticed my bed had risen an inch from the ground!

With my stomach on the ground,
I looked for the egg
under my bed. I
saw it
pulsating and about the size of a sleeping coyote so
I tried rolling it away from my house.

The egg was stuck to the house,
the floors, the foundation, the ground.
It would not budge what so
ever. This egg
did not want to leave. I wanted it
to leave, to return to “I” and not the “egg and I”

I,
to save my house,
tried breaking it:
the ground,
the egg,
but it wasn’t so.

So
I
ate the egg
after cutting away from the house,
away from the ground
after youtube demonstrated it.

The yolk, it
had a phlegm-like consistency so
I stomped on it on the ground
added skim milk and peppers and I
cooked it in my house.
The egg
and I,
in my house:
I am the egg.