She calls me
I would let
a spider en-
snare dust bunnies
for a year;
calm with disinterested
acceptance its carcass folds in on
collects my shed skin and
blonde hair turned fairy powder
up there in the ether
dismember your enemies’
they make those deviled eggs sprinkled
we gorge ourselves on, every year
she always cries at the cold
in the eggs when the hen walks
She lectures me on fertility, orphans,
and cradle robbers.
I say, we’ll adopt, Hon, we’ll adopt.
Some eggs just aren’t ejected to be chicks.
Where did the bunny get the eggs,
is what I want to know.