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