The Omelet

omlett-352142_1280.jpg

The Omelet

I unbroke that rotten egg
right before it dropped
into the bowl thus saving
the omelet.

It was just a fevered dream
that my fellow voters
insisted they loved the smell
of sulfur

and black spots in the yolk
were nothing to worry
about— just some added
seasoning.

But there’s no awakening from this nightmare.
I’m doomed to eat a poisoned breakfast.

About Bartholomew Barker

Bartholomew Barker was born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough, North Carolina where he makes money as a computer programmer to fund his poetry habit.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

9 Responses to The Omelet

  1. Cassa Bassa says:

    👍the wisdom in omlelet

  2. Patty says:

    Lucky you have eggs. 🍳

  3. Lisa Tomey says:

    Being woke about the yoke…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s