i tried to crack an egg today
but there was a baby chicken inside.
heavy and plum colored
i dropped it into the sink and now
i can't be near a kitchen.
thirteen time zones behind me
and she still shows up on cue
in my sleep.
when she was my mother
a woman in a t shirt that read
god is love in russian or, backwards numbers and letters
red spandex bike shorts in the basement,
she nicknamed me stupid brat
and stood me in the corner for hours
until my knees separated into accordion players
against the bluebell wallpaper.
i spent my first eighteen years on all fours on that farm
collecting hardened dog shit into my cupped brown palms
shop-vac-ing tufts of hair from rough, white linoleum corners
combining dish detergent and clorox in a blue gallon bucket.
but i didn't get fat and eaten
and i didn't live caged and get drowned when my magic was gone
and even though i was pure bred and picked out from a picture because i was cute and pathetic looking
i wasn't sold for four hundred and twenty five dollars
in a pet store window
up and down the eastern sea board.
i called tonight
seventeen synonyms for fine after the beep
i remembered to breathe
and hung up the phone seated
in the first row desk
facing the door.