Over Easy

I woke late, grabbed two of the eggs

you had just hard-boiled

still warm because

you don’t like the extra step

 

of making for them a cold bath.

I tried peeling them,

then came up to you

my utterly butterly croissant

 

to say "you are fired from egg duty."

But you gave me this sloppy kiss

which reminded me

of the first kiss

 

that began it all.

Our love has always been liquid.

Even before we were a pair,

broken yolks yielding into one another.

 

How good it feels

coddled into fluffy heaps

sizzling shallots, garlic and spinach

to become some new cheesy, scrambly thing.

 

Now with grandkids we parade

as perfectly poached or deviled eggs.

 

You, my good egg, better half-

benedict, starting tomorrow,

 

you predict,

you’ll show up like the eggs you make in the morning,

with cracks! Hard-boiled!

Hard-boiled?

​

Nah!  I will crack you open,

track that molten gold.