Mommy and I are burning,
nobody knows what its like for us:
for all of you the world
is like an egg,
for us it is like an inside out egg.
Your anger or grief resolves into a shell
around the shifting, ill-fitting yolk of the love in your soul.
For mommy and me, there is a hard-cored fire
pluming with a toxic yolk
that we insist you eat.
Eat it, it is our love, we say. It is our love, we say, eat it.
To turn down the yolk is to turn down the shell that produced it.
Swallow our shells.