The Creation

On the 7th day a yellow rubber duck
laid three eggs in a bathtub
behind the cosmic waterfall
in a nest built on my toes

at a rental apartment in the heart of the city
I was rinsing my miseries
when I winced awake from a coma
my feet raising to the ceiling
the eggs broke against the bottom of the tub

From the cracked egg’s upper fragment
now a sky filled with light pollution fashioned,
from the cracked egg’s lower fragment
rose a soil that doesn’t have a taste
from the white
came the blind spots in our vision
from the black
rose a dark forest inside a head
from the small crumbs
became satellites that replaced the stars

OK, this got a bit gloomy, once again

let’s give it another try:

From the cracked egg’s upper fragment
sparked the endless possibilities above us
from the cracked egg’s lower fragment
came the moist soil
for our garden plants, and our roots
from the white
rose your smile that uplifts the day
and the Sun, if it wouldn’t otherwise
from the black
echoed the depth in your gaze
the understanding
that makes me feel like I’m home
from the small crumbs
spun be constellations
that I’m not too familiar with