In the Summer,
stolen eggs
taken behind
the wash house
heaved against
the wall
heaved against
the rockpile
splattered
shell bits
milky yellow
liquid
a rotten odor
tainting the air
Sometimes,
we would
find them
tiny treasures
perfectly preserved
embryos
purpleblue skin
little chicken eyes
little chicken beaks
bony wisps of wing
minature miracles
other worlds
beyond
the realm of
the wash house
the rockpile
the old hen
scratching in the yard.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
although this is a good poem, i must say 'Bad Boy'! ! ! don't do that.