eggs, not quite sunny side up
Elizabeth Cheng | Art by Christy Yu
eggs, the pocket full o’ protein
a fat bomb,
you could say
d’you get ‘em from amazon yet?
just an extra three dozen
and five more
‘cause we fry nine at a time
eggs, just between classes
two fried, high heat
not too much oil,
wait, that’s too little
make it hot, hot
and hotter
so the whites can
bubble, crack and crisp
while the fat
glistens and shines
but the liquid gold maintains itself
lava,
flowy like a river of happiness
eggs, actually sunny side up
the sun and the moon
crystals of salt and the blackest pepper you can find
liquid if there’s bread
and jammy if we’re alone
but
we’re never alone so just
leave it streamy,
whatever
eggs, overcooked again?
there’s no salt either, or, er,
could you pass me the hot sauce?
and i need a spoon
for the avoca—
hold on, a knife, too
plus a fork to bring it all together
wait, what are we bringing together again?
could i just, um, please
have some eggs,
not quite sunny side up?