a brief meditation on impulse and the women who support me and the men who do not

an instinctual primal     urge to bite       crunch a shell   i bit through                   it bit down through

until the crack

yolk pored through        teeth    poured through

broken shell     i gasped                       surprised by the taste a raw egg                        stolen from the carton

when shafer wasn’t looking

this need                                  to bite the egg    i couldn’t explain it past                     i had to bite it something

in me needed to        pierce the walls of a

spoiled chicken infant               something in me knew it would be                                                            crunchy

the egg was so full                    whites and        yellows

and clear goose glue                             goo ooze it slipped from my tongue                          slipped down the sink

where the boys             told me to hover           they didn’t want egg on the floor

as i sunk my teeth   into cold calcium they were horrified         and amused and confused and bemused

and enthused and                        scared

why do you want to bite this egg

you wouldn’t want to bite the egg if you didn’t talk about it so much

i can’t watch this

oh my god beth why

they threw around the term egg sucker while i continued to insist         i only bit before the bite before the bite before the crunch  i held to egg  in my palm rolling it gentle and soft warming it

the fridge was chilling

my boy ben he said i couldn’t bite the egg

he said             it would be a waste       he brought up

Salmonella                   he said i would Hate    the                                    taste

i spoke to my poetry     ladies

told them the delima of my egg biting desires

and they told me                       don’t let him hold you back

each one said         i should do It

they told me                         do it

i knew then      what i had to do

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