Ab Ovo

The egg was breathing so quietly you wouldn’t have known it was alive. No clouds appeared in its immaculate atmosphere. It was a belly in search of a buddha, a featureless head, a round number. It balanced on a single point with far less effort than a ballerina. After a while, it got the idea that it was a bean, & one day would open green wings & lead the way to the sun, which didn’t look entirely unattainable. The strongest hand couldn’t crush it. Who’d have thought that warm center it had always taken for a heart had other plans?