we get to the house
after three hours driving.
I unpack the car
while chrys
checks the kitchen,
locates the toaster
and opens a packet
of eggs. the dog,
all excitement
in the fresh smell of countryside,
pisses of course, immediately. in the bedroom
birds have come through a window.
shit on the sill
and some feathers.
I drop the bags by the bed
and go to the bathroom. pull
the last scraps of paper
off while the floor creaks. downstairs
she yells for me. one of the eggs
fertilized; purple, broken
in the bowl. our yellow bruised
with half-formed guts, funks of wing
and bird-down. I come in, try with a spoon
and get most of it. suggest
she finishes the luggage
and I’ll stay in here;
do us an omelette or something.
behind me
the kettle starts
to boil.
DS Maolalai has been nominated eight times for Best of the Net and five times for the Pushcart Prize. His poetry has been released in two collections, “Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden” (Encircle Press, 2016) and “Sad Havoc Among the Birds” (Turas Press, 2019).