when's breakfast

-

sloppy, wet knock on the door

sleepy uterus answers

wearing nothing but a smiling negligee


“This is for you.”

“What is it?” I blink.

“An egg.”

“What the hell do I do with this?” I mull,

rolling the soccer ball sized girth in my hands.

“Drip it into your percolating vagina.”


the door clicks shut


goosebumps caterpillar down

stomach moths flutter like a roller coaster drop

clitoris quakes in its quiver

hairy legs part like a whore


crack the egg and pour

sunny yolky sperm

cummy hoary albumen flow

labia lap it up


when's breakfast? 

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