In honor of the season, I give you an egg poem that breaks at least one of the rant-rules of my March 29 manifesto. But I wrote it several years ago, before my rant was formed. Perhaps you don't require this hint, but it's also an acrostic.

Two Boiled Eggs

Dawn Potter

Osseus bolsters. Chubby

Viols. Infant

U-boats trapped in a steel pot,

Murmuring hen chants

Entre eux. A pair of accidents, honest as

Tadpoles. Heat-and-serve

Ovens. Custard cups, scissored of pale

Vellum too brittle to fold.

Upstart

Marbles. Clumsy chests spilling Spanish gold.