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The Breakfast Era

 By: Lauren Derrick




At the crack of dawn

An egg yolk slides up

Sizzling in sky

Peeling back the skin

Singeing the red flesh—

Dewy grapefruit.


Aroused from slumber

Unable to wake

Searing, steaming plate

Humidly smothers—

Drawing eyes downward.


Poking at egg whites

Sliding off the fork

Gold heat, punctured, drowns

Consuming the meal

Baptizing with fire.


We're toast.






This post first appeared on The Pensieve, please read the originial post: here

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The Breakfast Era

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