tried to persuade the egg to move
but it was stubborn,
stubbornly stuck to Teflon
seething ,spitting olive oils
the space-race has not solved the problems of the world
tin roof paws of a cat
the egg danced in fat
edgy and nervous
popping
I prod it, gave it a chance to speak
spitting bubbles
a spatula of concentration
I apply my skill
and all that
trying to maintain the fill of yolk
without rupture
my sweetheart can be like that
sometimes
so fragile
edgy like the white
her  yellow universe heart
so scared
like the oils extra virgin
first time

In pan fried daydreams
I drift
thinking of her
minutes are miles
gentle with the egg
I said soft
shape the edges
play it into shape
all automatically
and in a trance
domestic, relaxation exercises
like a deep bath
its bizarre don’t you think, that frying an egg,
gives you a chance to think
to think of lovers in a more appreciative way
to not take for granted
to understand any mood swing sway
gently shall treat her today
gently
a new light promise
like the way I move the egg
gently
and
although shell removed
I’ll be careful , not break
its yellow heart
scared to do that
never wish to hurt
feels nice thinking of you
got you in the pan
permanent forever no flashes except
the fluttered lashes of eyes to die for
never tire always more, I poached your all
and you rolled over for me
luckily loving it all

as I breathe slow, my sympathetic system
fully automatic I’m a more considerate egg cooker
these days, for its
sometimes the only chances we get to escape
only minutes, seems a shame, what happened these days
why so stressed, so much to arrange
these days, times ways, oh he’s cruel
no time to invest in looking after us
watch out the pressure could crack the egg
you know

I don’t like yolk that escapes, liquid
solidifies, seems wrong
it’s a s though a heart had broken
and became permanently cold
defensive
for what’s the use in holding hurt
once out of a shell, better to treat
with hand so well such fragile feeling
I’m inventive like that
centred within, for like pollen dust
we are all so fragile
I don’t mind if you pollinate me
the powder its power, it pollinates
so gentle the motion beneath insects
I lay, all these feelings, like many legs
I’m a centipede for you sometimes
sensitive egg
under mercy of natures breeze
forgiving often and on one knee
to you
for everything you evoke on me
yes, both of us yoke
both of us broken shelled, stripped
and revealed to each other
smothered smiles and wide eyed on realisation
both laid down and died for each other
such power of love to cut and recover
from anything
so natural and real so budding
the mother now
like pollination introduced another
to the world we call ours.