Yourself, Yolk

Photo by Pulpolux
Photo by Pulpolux

Curved spine, chest-crossed arms, bare soles, curled legs—
albumen and calcareous shell.

Stiller than embryo chick sub-hen,
wait, alone. Close eyes. Render world hush.

As chick, egg-held, comes chisel-equipped;
tadpole, toothed;  dancing mind will unfurl—
polliwog from slow gel.

What emerges we know for frog, fowl.

Your yolk yields idiocy, genius,
your own green glistening Athenas.

Categories Poetry

Pamela Hobart Carter loves Seattle as much for its water and mountains as for its bustle and creativity. She explores the Emerald City daily while walking her dog. Carter used to be a teacher who wrote on the side. Now she is a writer who teaches on the side.

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