She handed me the egg
sprayed in blooded paint
between the bones, slowly
and meticulously, even perilously
and the egg, in her fingers
(if one could call them that)
reminded me of the sun
accused and oozing below
a fluorescent indigo horizon
sandblasted, with chocolate
shadows on the cheeks of homes
congregated on the rocky shoreline
like raindrops on a sunflower’s petal
George Cassidy Payne is a poet from Rochester, NY. His work has been included in such publications as the Hazmat Review, Moria Poetry Journal, Chronogram Journal, Ampersand Literary Review, The Angle at St. John Fisher College, and 3:16 Journal. George’s blogs, essays and letters have appeared in USA Today, The Wall Street Journal, The Atlantic, Havana Times, South China Morning Post, The Buffalo News, and more.
See all his poems on Tea House here.