blue willow

i don’t like eggs
but you knew this already
i know you’re thinking
such a terrible waste
but it’s not, you see
i’m feeding them to the dog
she loves them just
as much as i know she loved you
and the way you walked her
as if every single thing
she sniffed mattered to you
as well

sorry, pardon my string tugging
i ramble at breakfast
like a fussy percolator
but you knew this already
it’s also when i am at
my most honest and vulnerable
i know that’s why you left
after dinner

god damnit, you
i miss you so much
what i did before
us is a mystery
and what i do now is
insanity. i’m frying up eggs
just to smell them again
and to perhaps coax you
down, here for breakfast
did you know i believe that
there is still a ghost of a chance

Rene Foran ~  April 2011

photo by Tess Kincaid for Magpie Tales click for more info

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46 thoughts on “blue willow

  1. I had to smile … once had an English Springer named Chloe who would inhale eggs if I let her. Fried, scrambled, poached, hard boiled. Save breakfast, it will happen.

  2. I have to say there is not much that is less appetizing than congealing egg yolk on a plate, but the poem rocked. The characters in this, even the dog, just jump off the page.(Well, not literally–that would be weird.)

  3. They say relationships are made of a million minor details — coming in so close to this changed ritual, with characters present and not central to the work — the details grieve. – Brendan

  4. Perhaps you are not describing an actual state of affairs Rene but I feel quite sad reading your poem. I imagine you are torturing yourself talking to a loved one who has died.In any case you have captured the emotion well.

  5. Now, this is one excellent poem.You are a very good writer, and I was glad to take this poem trip with you. Hard to imagine someone interesting in everything a dog sniffs, but I guess it probably happens all the time. 🙂 So little do I know.

  6. What a lovely poem, but it made me sad because my dog's getting old and I walk him like everything he sniffs matters to me too, because it does!…and he likes his egg yolks hard boiled 😉 and not the whites!

  7. so many great touches here…love how he walked the dog as if the things she sniffed mattered to him as well..this is lovely…i understand that you want him back…so fry another egg and open the window…it may help..smiles

  8. This is just wonderful – first there is something about eggs here that has an odd intimacy – as a morning food, as an eye, as something almost kind of sexual/sensual – the sharing of breakfast certainly has that feel – and the shifting tone of the narrative – the plaintive quality – I really enjoyed this. Thanks. k.

  9. There is so much flavor in this piece, Rene–angry, almost bitter lines in the opening stanza all the way through the loss and a sweet yet pointless hope. I'm so glad you pulled this one out again for Poetics–I'm reading it for the first time, but it was even better on the second and then third read through, so I hope your followers give it another look.

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