
collage: sheet music, magazines, colored paper, 6" x 5"
The Egg
Her brother dared to say he loved me.
She spit on him,
I'm not leaving you a thing!
She hated my pale skin.
The night she died
I dreamed she gave me an egg.
It felt hardboiled;
I was about to peel the shell
and take a bite
when she demanded it back.
I threw the egg at her.
Years of rage splattered
down her face
distorted with the pain
of her nest egg sucked empty
by her own lover, the one man
she had trusted.