Egg Drop by Denise Jarrott

Shake an egg: 
if it rattles, 
there is something 
to be won.
Hold an egg up
to the sun:
if a shadow,
there is something 
growing there, there
it is: olive
eye and inept 

Drop an egg 

in a glass 
of water: 
watch it rise,
its symbols

Soft body on

soft body:  
tunnel of feather
and flap: neck 
twist and back
bend: bell for 
wedding, or 
if a train
unravels from 
the whites it must
you will go, 
you will go.

Fleet of swans: find 

the one swan in
disguise. He will
not be denied, 
he has never 
been denied. Wing
over breast as 
if to caress
with its hollow 

To determine 

the sex of 
the child inside
you must rest an 
egg between 
your breasts and
wait: careful not 
to break
it. Wake 
with a cocks-comb 
brushing against
you, egg 
tooth rutting 
on your chest: 
the line continues 
through space, and time
is yours to buy. 

Go to market with the egg

in a little basket: keep it safe, feel it wriggle
as it slips its discerning eye over the meat cuts, the silk
bolts, determine yes 
or no, or 

oh, I think I’ll pass 

for today. Pass by
the stalls with an egg 
in your bust, 
Feel it pulse
as you pulse, 
and if it is wrong? 
a girl to straddle 
two worlds, as if the 
water were
just a means 
of her going, 
as if the wind 
were made to shift 
her this way, or
that way, as if 
she were made to make
men bloody their swords 
at the sight of her. 

You can have it all 

and more 
than you can handle. 
You deflated 
as they dropped: 
two eggs 
and four
perfect specimens. 
None shall have more
than you.