On Leaving by Allagash Sinclair

On Leaving
by Allagash Sinclair

It occurred to me this morning-after the passing of many such mornings-
that I left because of the way you dispatched an egg.

As if pondering a move in chess, you sat hunched over its form for a moment
before drawing the tine of your fork through the white, quivering flesh

and removing a small triangle that you skillfully trimmed
to match the cut of your toast. And like a bricklayer-

or the man who set the kitchen tile-you would carefully align the
egg piece atop the toast-mindful of any ovum overlay-then lift it to your lips

only to devour this morsel with both eyes closed. I would watch in silence,
as this orgasmic encounter with egg and toasted bread continued

until there was nothing left of this once innocent brown orb but a small bubble of yellow, dissected and set aside, culled from the white with the precision

and deftness of a surgeon opening skin. And I think it rather odd now,
the memory of my brother the egg-and the recollection of the moment-

when you plunged the sharpened point of your last bit of toast
into the liquid yellow heart, laughing wildly, as you watched both of us bleed.

Author bio:

Allagash Sinclair has had several pieces published over the years in Aftertaste Magazine, The Black Seal, NavWorks Press, and a few teeny-weeny chapbooks, including a 9/11 benefit chapbook published by Circle Publications. Allagash drinks too much coffee and suffer from long bouts of writers block.