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.
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