fried egg genius

Rob Parrish


she exhaled disapproval
at wheat; said white
complimented her creation.


she loved her toast.


her fried egg genius sat
strangely on my bed of bread;
"Look what you've done, silly."


cheese pooled on the plate.


under the table, my eyes tugged
at the shirttail that shrouded
her magic.


thighs stood like messengers,


one branded from a mishap,
her mother's curling iron.
"Hurry while it's hot."


a genuine bell(e).


but now,
no more bells
or calls to the table.
just cold coffee
and thoughts of toast.

Euphemism Campus Box 5555 Illinois State University Normal, IL 61790