fold over my left side

There are cracks in my knowledge
Gaping open, flapping in a breeze

What came first, the chicken or the egg?
Who cares, except the poor hen that fucked
and clucked her way to Exodus.

I bet it hurt: a riot of feathers and blood
A carnival of bone marrow and cracked
beaks. The peeping sound of new life
And the hen vomits, exhaustedly happy
To be part of an eternal riddle

I remember standing next to a beached
whale. The men who found it told us:
Step backwards. Step backwards. Move!
It was edging closer to explosion...
And I was really excited, couldn’t
bloody wait for guts to spew over sea.

A grotesque little girl, always waiting
For death, pain and grotty beauty.

And there are things I’ll never know
Like who has the fish? And how do
You manage to bend that way when
I touch you there.