::12:04:07::

::: Speckled Egg :::

There is oil boiling.

It splattered the old beige of the kitchen.
Now the wall is speckled.
like a freshly laid farm egg.

Well truth be told I’ve never seen a farm egg.
just read about it in a book I have.
got it from the public library.

The lady at the desk tells me the library smells like cork.
I tell her it smells like when my mami tries to clean the speckles off the kitchen wall.
she smiles at me and gives me the egg book.

about some girl named Rebecca.
my name is Rebecca too.
I think this Rebecca wears more dresses than i do though.

maybe you have dresses when you live on a farm and hold warm speckled chicken eggs in your hands every morning.
Rebecca’s mother says it is almost life in that egg.
I think maybe that egg is just waiting for a pan to fry it.

I wear jeans when I hold eggs.
they are from the corner liquor store.
A dozen and a 24 pack of beer for five dollars.
fits in one grocery bag.
my papi says that’s pretty cheap.

I hold cold eggs sometimes.
at night I crack them in oil that jumps the stove.
onto the wall.
I think about Rebecca and her dresses.

Written by: ~ Rebecca Ann Pratt