Noelle Kocot
Factory Days
An Aristotelian impulse, linearly placed,
Garbled up the machinery we used
To make eggs. Two eggs, four eggs, eight
Million eggs and then suddenly no eggs
At all. And the love we had for each other,
That was gone too, but this wasn’t as bad
As the absence of eggs. So instead of eggs,
We began to make absinthe and at first
The love grew even more than when we
Had the eggs but then, well, you can imagine
The rest. This is about when I thought
I could go for a fantastic pedicure and I did
Exactly that and found this was the precise
Happiness I’d hoped for during all my years
Of making eggs. When it was over,
A long line of land fauna crossed my path
Unlike any I had ever seen before or since.
I mean, have you ever had your style cramped
By a wicker basket, had your mind pierced
With red hoop earrings, knowing what would come
Next would be a trough of lamentations? I haven’t,
But the fauna knew it well. Turns out some
Of them made eggs, too, and the love that each
One had for the other was purely platonic.
How ironic, I reflected, then traveled back
To the absinthe factory humming The Star
Spangled Banner on my first birthday without eggs,
The shining sea warbling above us all.