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.

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…

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