Sunday, July 3, 2016

JD DeHart writes

My Darling Egg

How you glow and promise

something beneath the shell,

you the glimpse,

half-whisper, only a syllable

uttered from across space.

When the surface begins

to give way,

maybe I can be the human

I was once supposed to be,

maybe my arms can be a fire,

my tiny rhymes a song,

my scent a reassuring source.


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